


A Light to Burn All the Empires

by decotex



Series: The Sharpest Lives [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Emperor Hux, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, overworked hux, seal screaming as loud as it can GAAAAAAAAY, sequel but stands alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 45,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decotex/pseuds/decotex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren gets back from training. Hux is overworked and up for a promotion. Against his better judgement, he takes Kylo with him on the campaign.</p><p>Feat. self-destruction and galactic domination.</p><p>Sequel to "Give Me A Shot . . ." but also stands alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternately titled “Someone Please Tell Hux to Go the FUCK to Sleep.”
> 
>  

Hux was going to murder somebody.

No.

Hux was going to murder _everybody_.

“General, the fifth battalion is-”

“In position. I know. Tell them to hold.”

“Yes, sir."

 _“This is battalion six,”_ said a voice from Hux’s console, at the head of the bridge. _“We’ve breached the stronghold but we’re outnumbered. Too many assault droids. Need backup immediately.”_

“Backup is coming shortly. Hold out for a few more minutes.”  

_“Will do our best.”_

Hux closed the comm link and stared back up at the monitors, which were streaming live drone feeds of the assault.

Anyone who didn’t know Hux would say that he looked remarkably calm, considering.

Very few people would notice his white-knuckle grip on the bridge’s railing.

“Sir, Captain Phasma strongly suggests that you move the fifth battalion now.”

“Tell her-you know, just let me talk to her.”

Colonel Drax glared at a nearby technician, and Captain Phasma’s link buzzed online.

 _“They’re not going to last much longer. We need to move_ _now.”_

“No, you don’t. Just wait. Just a few more minutes.”

 _“I won’t stand by while my troops are killed_ . _”_

“I promise, Captain. You won’t.”

There was a pause, and then, with some reluctance; _“Yes, sir. Waiting to move, on your order.”_

“Sir,” said Drax, tentatively. “Sorry to interrupt again, but-”

“No, _please_. I’m not busy.”

“ . . . Sir, Kylo Ren is here.”

Hux turned around and stared at her.

There was a beat.

“What?”

It wasn’t his most articulate moment, he’d admit.

“His shuttle just landed. They, uh, left early because of some sort of weather situation on . . . anyway, he’s in the shuttle bay.”

Hux took a very brief moment to acknowledge, privately, the existence of some higher power and its weird sense of humor, because there was no way that Kylo Ren was a naturally occurring phenomenon.

“Tell him to wait.”

“Err . . . okay,” said Drax, looking doubtful.

Hux didn’t have time for this. He turned back to the display monitors.

This attack was riskier than he usually preferred to be. It was a large operation that depended entirely on the fourth battalion reaching the control room in time. He wouldn’t lie-this could very easily go very wrong.

“You look tense.”

Hux couldn’t remember the last time he’d screamed. During his own birth, probably. But he came as close as he ever had, right then.

He turned, very slowly. Kylo Ren’s stupid helmet was about one foot from his face.

“Thanks for waiting in the shuttle bay. I really appreciate it. The way you recognize my authority makes me feel validated and respected as a leader.”

“I hate waiting.”

“Also, when you have a free moment, I’d like to introduce you to a concept from my home planet called ‘personal space.”

_“Battalion four has almost reached the control room.”_

Hux turned back to his console. 

“Good. Tell me the second you do.”

There was no video feed of battalion four, since there was no room for drones in the dense maintenance facility on Quedaras they were storming. Hux made a mental note to ask someone about stormtrooper helmet cameras.

“Stop staring,” he said, without turning around.

“I’m not.”

“Prove it.”

Sure, he was in the middle of a battle, but it had been _months_. There was a part of Hux, deep down in his heart, that reluctantly but desperately wanted to see Kylo’s face.

_“Closing in on control room.”_

He flashed Kylo a quick grin.

“You’re going to love this.”

Hux raised his hand delicately and closed his eyes, as if he were conducting a very tiny symphony. (In actuality, he was conducting a very large and very violent symphony.)

He felt a tentative hand on his shoulder.

_“Control room breached. System shutdown has begun.”_

“Phasma-go.”

On the monitors overhead, a large group of stormtroopers, led by Phasma, ran at the Thypsian stronghold. At the same time, on another monitor, the assault droids that had been engaging the sixth battalion dropped to the ground.

_“System shutdown complete. Proceeding to second objective.”_

“Battalions one, two, and three-go.”

Another monitor displayed hundreds of stormtroopers advancing on an urban city, which was surrounded in a green bubble.

Until it wasn’t.

_“Jalia shields down, sir.”_

There was a sort of feeling, when everything went exactly as planned. Something like euphoria mixed with narcissism mixed with bloodlust.

“I’m impressed,” said Kylo Ren, and Hux chose to believe rather than knew that he was being serious.

“You should be.”  

The rest of it was over in minutes.

“Battalion leaders, check in.”

_“Quedaras secure.”_

_“Thypsia secure.”_

_“Jalia secure.”_

Several people in the control room started clapping.

Hux felt a surge in his already elevated levels of adrenaline.

Kylo Ren by his side, the world at its knees-it all just felt so _right._

\---

Afterwards, they walked to the conference room together.

“You remodelled,” Kylo observed.

“Yes. The entire ship’s been renovated.”

“It looks . . . different.”

“It looks _fantastic_ ,” Hux corrected, glancing fondly at a motion-activated lighting panel.  

“If you say so.”

Colonel Drax caught up with them, clutching a holoscreen.

“Sir, President Uzi of Quedaras is on the line. He wants to negotiate the surrender.” Although she addressed Hux, she kept glancing at Kylo, like she wanted to welcome him back but wasn't quite sure if she was allowed.

“They don’t get to negotiate. That’s why it’s called ‘unconditional.”

“Yes, but he has questions about their rights as an established territory as well as-”

“Fine. Three minutes.”

Drax bowed briefly before walking away. Hux noted that she was hiding a blush.

They turned a corner.

“What was that?”

“Drax, my best officer. Don’t be rude. You’ve met her.”

“I mean, why did she bow for me? She never did that before.”

“I hate to break it to you, Kylo,” said Hux, without meeting his eyes. “But she wasn’t bowing for _you_.”

Kylo took a long moment to consider this. When he figured it out, he gave Hux a look.

“What have you been doing, while I was gone?”

Hux shrugged.

\---

It had been a year.

A year since Kylo Ren had officially left the Finalizer to train with Snoke on Scila, eight months since Kylo Ren’s brief visit, and six months since the day that Captain Phasma let herself into Hux’s office holding what can only be described as a preemptively-apologetic case of Felucian cigars.

Hux looked up from his vodka. He tried to glare, but only managed to look flushed and guilty.

Phasma sighed, shut the door behind her, looked around for another chair (Hux didn’t have one), sighed again, and settled for crossing her arms.

“With all due respect, sir, this is pathetic.”

“Look, I just-I’m allowed, okay? To-” He gestured, like he could barely bring himself to finish the sentence. “To miss . . . you know, that. You have to admit the ship’s boring without him.”

“I wasn’t talking about Kylo Ren, sir.”

“ . . . Neither was I?”

She took off her helmet, for no reason that Hux could think of other than to accent her otherwise dry and exasperated expression with a dramatic flair.

Hux recognized the look immediately. He often saw it in the mirror.

“Sir, Starkiller was difficult for all of us. It was an unexpected blow to the First Order. And I’ll be honest-not everyone on the Finalizer likes you.”

“You flatter me.”

“But we all _trust_ you. Regardless of any personal opinions, regardless of Starkiller, we’re all proud to serve under your command because everyone knows you’re the best general the First Order’s ever had." She leaned in, like she was admitting something private.

"It’s an unspoken truth on this ship that you’re a genius. ”

She looked and him and frowned.

“Tactically, anyway.”

“What are you getting at, exactly? If your point requires a certain amount of mental energy or coherent thought, it may have to wait until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Didn’t you have any post-Starkiller plans?”

“Oh, sure. But most of them involved, you know.” He waved, vaguely. “Starkiller.”

“Take a look at them again. As a personal favor.”

“Phasma, I _appreciate_ the concern,” he said, and it didn’t come out quite as sarcastic as he’d intended because it was actually true. “But I don’t see how any of it matters, now.”

“I’m just saying, sir; it’s a shame that the greatest strategic mind of our generation only gets off its ass and attempts galactic domination when it’s upset about a boy.”

Hux closed his eyes.

“I can’t-it’s just my luck that there are two people who have ever lived on this ship that I’m not allowed to eject out of an airlock, and _both_ of you are assholes.”

“And for that we’re forever grateful, sir. I’ll leave you to your _work._ ”

Before leaving, she reached over his desk and took the bottle of vodka.

He glared.

“At least leave the glass.”

She gave him a look and, very deliberately, took the half-filled glass too.

“Goodnight, sir.”

Hux sighed, loudly, in a way that he hoped conveyed an emotion he wouldn’t be embarrassed about tomorrow morning. Irritation was always a safe one, as were mild annoyance and any of its synonyms.

Once she’d left, he slumped in his seat and rubbed his forehead, allowing himself for one moment to look like the mess that he was.

Then he sat up, took a deep, calming, and hopefully sobering breath, turned to his holographic monitor, and pulled up a set of documents that hadn’t been opened in over a year.

And it had all sort of taken off from there.  

\---

Conquering three planets at the same time, it turns out, is an administrative nightmare.

Hux had to meet with each of their governments separately. By the time he got to the last one, his opening speech had gotten decidedly more passive-aggressive.

“Yes, the First Order is taking over your planet. No, you can’t convince us otherwise. No, we won’t kill you, unless you’re especially annoying. Yes, the thirty-percent First Order planetary income tax is mandatory and non-negotiable. Yes, this does mean you’ll be eligible for First Order benefits and yes, we have dental. ”

The Thyspian Council, projected holographically in front of him, stared.

Just as Hux was getting hopeful one of them stood up.

_“Now I don’t know who you think you are, young man, but here on Thyspia we-”_

Hux stopped listening.

He had more work to do after this. He wasn’t sure why that made him feel guilty. It wasn’t as if Kylo Ren expected him to clear his schedule. Still, he couldn’t shake a certain bitterness about the fact that after all this time, all those months, Kylo Ren was finally back on the ship and Hux was stuck in conference rooms listening to someone rant about _ethics_.

“Anyway,” said Hux, cutting him off. “Someone will be in contact shortly. Thank you for your cooperation. We look forward to your service.”

_“Listen here-”_

He motioned for someone to turn off the projector.

\---

It was well past midnight by the time Hux got to his own room that night. There was really no end to his work, these days-just brief moments where he was fairly confident that if he slept, the Finalizer would still be functional when he woke up.

Almost immediately after he collapsed into his armchair, a holoscreen notified him that Kylo Ren was at his door.

“Let him in,” he said, closing his eyes. “I guess.”

He heard Kylo walk in and then stop, just inside the doorway. Hux let him stare for a moment.

“I’m just going to say it upfront; I don’t think we can do reunion sex tonight. I’m almost sure I’d fall asleep halfway through, which would be horribly insulting.”

“That’s, I wasn’t, I don’t mind.”

“Fantastic.”

There was a brief silence.

“So, should I . . .”

“Yeah, you should probably just go.”

Hux let him get halfway across the room before he spoke up.

“Kylo.”

“What?”

“I was kidding.”

“You-"

“Yes.” Hux sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Stay. Please. You idiot.”

\---

Kylo left his helmet on Hux’s dresser, facing the bed. It was making Hux uncomfortable. If he were less tired, he would have gotten up and flipped it around. As it was, he just turned to look at Kylo, who was staring up at him like he was expecting to be kicked out any second now.

Hux closed his eyes, partly because he was tired and partly because being so close to Kylo’s face right then after not seeing him for months had the same effect on his heart as throwing back the curtains to let in the morning sunshine would have on someone who had been sitting in the dark.

“I realize I’m overflowing with enthusiasm right now, but I missed you. Really.”

“I missed you too.”

Kylo kissed his neck, and, shit, maybe he _could_ do reunion sex tonight.

Instead, they laid there for a moment.

It occurred to Hux that their relationship had always been characterized by urgency, and the knowledge that no matter what happened, the other person was only a temporary presence in their life. Now that, for the first time, neither of them had anywhere else to be, it opened up a lot of awkwardly domestic questions about their situation.

Hux half expected Kylo to ask, “So, what _are_ we?”

“Why? Do you know?”

Hux opened his eyes and glared at him.

“Stop.”

“I wasn’t. You were shouting. Sometimes you’re very loud, and it’s just so easy for me to-but, I know. I won’t. Sorry.”

Hux felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to ruin the moment.

“Is it easier for you now, to . . .”

“Yes,” said Kylo. “Much easier. But it’s also easier for me to block it out.”

“Is that what you were doing? On Scila?”

“Partially.”

Kylo fell silent. Hux could tell he was thinking about his training. On one hand, Kylo clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but on the other, he was really _so curious_.

“Should I even ask?”

“Probably not.”

Hux dropped it. All in good time.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own bomb to drop.

“I’ll tell you about-” Hux gestured half-heartedly. “-things, tomorrow.”

He felt Kylo nod, beside him.

“No rush.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? These idiots. 
> 
> I've got quite a story planned. Without spoiling anything, get your tissues and bandaids out. 
> 
> This one is going to have slightly longer chapters, which means more time between chapters. I'll try to update at minimum every Friday, but I'm also a full-time student so we'll see. You'll probably find more accurate info about chapter progress on my tumblr. 
> 
> And, seriously; thank you all for your amazing comments! I read all of them and they make my day.


	2. Chapter 2

“So. Emperor Hux.”

“It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, my official title would still be ‘General.”

“But you’d essentially be an emperor.”

Hux’s first instinct was to talk his way out of this by mentioning the limits of his proposed powers and his obvious deference to Supreme Leader Snoke, may he live forever. But he was in a good mood and no one else was around so instead, he allowed thirty percent of the euphoric wickedness he was feeling show on his face and said;

“Essentially.”

They were sitting in an empty conference room. Hux was reviewing his proposal draft for what was possibly the seven-hundredth time while waiting for his next appointment to call. Kylo was, as far as Hux could tell, loitering.

“Is all this really necessary?” Kylo asked, eyeing the documents on Hux’s monitor with some distrust. Hux kind of understood. This was probably the closest Kylo had ever been to a regulations document.

“Unfortunately. I’m proposing some relatively drastic restructurations to the First Order as well as kickstarting an aggressive galactic sovereignty campaign. It’s all technically outside of my current authority, so I need to submit a proposal and get a majority vote of all high-ranking First Order officials.”

“A vote?”

“It’s when people choose between options and the most popular option wins.”

“I know what a vote is. Why do you need one? You’re the _General._ They all have to follow your orders anyway. _”_

Hux smiled and said nothing, continuing to stare at his monitor.

“What?” Kylo demanded after a moment.

“I always wondered if maybe you were a complete ass to me because you didn’t know how highly-ranked I was. I think that’s the first time you’ve ever acknowledged my authority.”

Kylo glared at him.

“I know what a general is. I know how military ranks work.”

“Do you? As far as I know, which is admittedly not very far because you’re obsessed with cultivating an aura of mystery, you don’t have a military background. And I can’t imagine you’ve picked up an extensive understanding of military rankings while staying on this ship, since you haven’t even picked up some of my officers’ _names_.”

“I . . . I’m not ‘cultivating an aura of mystery.’ Why don’t _you_ tell me all the intimate details of _your_ past?”

“Okay.”

Hux shut off the monitor and turned to face Kylo, whose eyes widened at the sudden attention.

“I was born on Dinwa Prime but grew up in the Outer Rim territories. My father is Brendol Hux, who was a Commandant for the Empire. My mother is Khadija Hux, a doctor. I haven’t spoken to either of them in six years. I attended Arkanis Academy, my father’s Imperial officers training academy, where I graduated top of my class. Not _near_ the top of my class,” he said, pausing to lean forward for emphasis. “Number one. At the very top. I’m the youngest General in First Order and Empire history.”

Hux leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Your turn.”

Kylo just looked at him, pleadingly.

The door opened automatically (state-of-the-art identification scanners, installed two months ago).

“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” said Colonel Drax, looking like she meant it. “President Bliss is on our main line. I can tell him to call back . . .?”

Hux held Kylo’s gaze for a few seconds longer before standing up. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

Kylo didn’t look up as he left.

\---

“The campaign manager from Cargamalis arrived on Decim yesterday,” said Drax, as they walked down the hallway toward the bridge. “He’s been given level seven access to our database in order to begin planning. Our hope is that he’ll be ready to start as soon as we land.”

“Fine.”

“Also, sir. Bliss’s secretary wants to know how many rooms we’re going to need. They may have to house people in the buildings surrounding the guild.”

“Enough for however many people are going, I suppose. I wouldn’t know.”

“Right, but, in terms of Kylo Ren specifically. Will he, um, need his . . . own . . .”

“ _Oh_.”

They passed the repair room and several supply closets.

“To be honest,” said Hux. “I really couldn’t say.”

“Well, that’s fine. I’ll just . . .” She struggled. “I’ll add him to the count then? I will. Okay. Good. Thank you, sir.”

There was a silence.

“Breathe, Drax.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s not even the most impertinent question I’ve fielded about Kylo Ren _today_.”

\---

The meeting with President Bliss was short and efficient, making it Hux’s least hated and therefore favorite meeting of the day.

“General Hux! It’s an absolute honor,” said Bliss’s holographic projection, which was just as relentlessly positive and polite as Bliss was in real life. It was the reason that Hux had put him in charge of Decim. Angsty murderers, while thematically appropriate, were generally not ideal for public leadership positions.

“President Bliss.”

“Please, just Bliss.”

“Bliss, then. Is everything in order for tomorrow?”

“Yes, preparations are well underway to host your entourage as well as the other officers.”

“I hardly have an _entourage_.”

The concept of being followed around by attendants was made more embarrassing by the fact that Hux immediately found it attractive.

“Of course, of course. Only figure of speech, sir.”

“And the security concerns?”

“Are being taken care of. The guild will be under complete surveillance by regular patrols. Personal bodyguards of the highest calibre will be assigned to all officers, including yourself.”

“That’s not necessary. I have my own bodyguard.”

“Excellent.” Bliss gave him an interested look. “This proposal of yours has people talking.”

“I should hope so. It’s going to revolutionize the First Order.”

Hux didn’t take the bait. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Bliss; it was that he didn’t trust _anyone_.

Bliss nodded. “I look forward to reading it. Until then, General.”

“Until then.”

\---

Hux worked through the night. It wasn’t intentional. This campaign was going to be the biggest career-defining moment of his life, and in the past he’d spent hours reviewing the details for even his least career-defining decisions. In its current state, the proposal was good. He’d been revising it for months. But it was not perfect, and therefore, to Hux, it was worthless.  

Some would call him obsessive.

Those people would not be wrong.

This fact would bring them little comfort, as they slowly imploded after being ejected out of an airlock.

Sometime the next morning, while Hux was reviewing inventory in the hangar bay, Kylo Ren appeared by his side.

“You didn’t sleep,” said Kylo, sounding accusatory.

Hux glanced up. No one was near enough to have heard. Still.

“You know what I missed the most about you? Your subtlety and tact.”

“Did you really work all night?”

“How would you know? Did you just sit around, waiting for me?”

There was a telling silence.

“After all this time, you still amaze me sometimes, Ren. You really do.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Hah.” Hux looked down at his holoscreen. “Oh, by the way. I told Bliss you were my bodyguard.”

“Why?”

“He was going to assign me one, and the only thing worse than being murdered is being followed around by some _idiot_ -well.” He gave Kylo a look.

After a moment, Kylo stalked off in an indignant flurry of black fabric.

Hux smiled.

\---

Decim was a relatively small planet located on the edge of the Outer Rim. It was one of the first entirely First Order-controlled planets, as a direct result of a bottle of Ergesh rum and Hux finding one of Kylo Ren’s gloves under the couch in his office.

Aside from a series of islands in the north that served as luxury vacation spots, the majority of the planet was densely urban. The buildings were low but sprawling. The whole planet had a outdoorsy, natural look, that had obviously been carefully planned and executed with a lot of money. Like ripped jeans, or an artisanal grocery store.

Think of it as the vertically-challenged lovechild of Coruscant and Tatooine.

Decim had one flaw, which Hux was reminded of the moment he stepped out of the shuttle. Prone to moderate but unpredictable temperature fluctuations, Decim was the kind of planet where you needed rain boots and sunscreen just to get the mail.

Hux already knew he was going to have to lose the coat, at least for today, and he hated that.

He felt a presence behind him as he was led away from the private shuttle bay. There was a telling swish of fabric.

It was a powerful feeling, to have Kylo Ren by your side.

Hux smiled.

The doors slid open, and they stepped inside the guild.

There were many reasons why Hux had chosen Decim as the center of his campaign and the meeting area for all First Order officers. Its location, for example, made it accessible to officers stationed all around the galaxy. It was also rich and small, making it unlikely they’d be bothered by local events.

But the main reason, the bordering on selfish reason, was the Executive Guild.

They took a moment to stop and stare.

It was probably aided now by the clear skies and sunlight, but even in the rain, even in the snow, even in a toxic fog, the Executive Guild would be one of the most beautiful buildings Hux had ever seen.

It didn’t quite have the drama of the Senate Building on Coruscant-it was as flat as the rest of the city, aside from a single stained-glass dome rising about two stories above the rest of the guild. It was the biggest contiguous structure on Decim, which wasn’t saying much.   

But what the Executive Guild did have was grace. It was steeped in curtains and pillars and water features and open ceilings.

As he stared up at the glittering, golden curtains draped over the ceiling and waving in the wind, an unfinished phrase echoed in Hux’s head.

_And from this palace, I shall . . ._

\---

A small but formal reception was gathered in the stateroom-the officers who had arrived before them, from various locations.

One of them, with dark hair and a Lieutenant’s uniform, approached Hux with a smile.

“General. Welcome to Decim.”

“Thatch,” said Hux, as neutrally as he could manage.

Thatch glanced over Hux’s shoulder nervously, and Hux could tell he was looking at Ren. They must be an imposing pair, Hux thought with some pride.

“And this is your-”

“Lord Kylo Ren.”

“Oh,” he said, looking at Kylo with newfound awe. “Lord Ren, it is an honor.”

Kylo nodded, silently.

It was something that Hux was beginning to notice about Kylo. For someone who could be fairly confident that they would be the most physically powerful person in any room, Kylo Ren was actually fairly awkward in most situations that didn't involve violence. Hux found this mortally endearing.

“Sir,” said Drax, who had been following some distance behind them. “Bliss has some forms that he would like you to review as soon as possible. May I  . . .?”

“Of course. Thatch. Ren,” said Hux, turning to follow Drax.

“I’m looking forward to hearing about your plan, General,” Thatch said.  

If he weren’t on his best behavior, Hux would have called him out in a derogatory and probably very clever way. Instead, he managed a polite nod.

\---

It was dark out by the time Hux had a chance to see the suite he’d be staying in. Like the rest of the guild, it was immaculately decorated, with white marble floors and furniture draped in tapestries. One wall was entirely opened to a balcony and layered in hanging curtains.

Rather than a traditional bed, a mattress had been lowered into the floor and piled high with cushions and blankets.

Kylo Ren was asleep in it. Shirtless.

Hux sat, carefully, on the edge of the bed and began taking off his boots.

“Do you not sleep in your own room now? Is that what’s going on?”

Kylo sat up and looked at Hux guiltily. He looked like he hadn’t intended to be caught like this, exposed, which was ridiculous for a number of reasons.

“I can leave.”

Hux rolled his eyes.

\---

They laid in silence for a while.

It was nice out. The curtains fluttered softly in the wind. Hux couldn't remember the last time he’d felt real weather. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept on a planet.

“You know, I haven’t seen Thatch in a long time.”

“ . . . Oh?” asked Kylo, and Hux smiled at his obviously forced innocence.

“Relax. We’ve always hated each other.”

He turned to face Kylo.

“Who’s your oldest enemy?”

Kylo glared at him. “Hux.”

“I’m flattered.”

“I mean, don’t ask me.

“Why not?”

Kylo shrugged and looked down.

“What’s your current objective, anyway? I suppose I should have asked before dragging you off to Decim.”

There was a telling silence.

“Oh, _excuse me_. For a moment there I thought I was entitled to know even the most basic working knowledge about the person sleeping in my bed. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hux, I wish-” Kylo closed his eyes. He looked torn.

“Forget it.”

“Hux-”

“Go to sleep, Kylo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decim: pronounced deck-um. Bonus points if you know where the name's from.
> 
> Hux's motto is "Trust no bitch" and you can't convince me otherwise. 
> 
> These past few days have been WEIRD so I ended up cutting this off a bit earlier than I intended. I have a lot done for the next update though, so that might happen early. And uh. Lowkey, I definitely should have posted this on my nsfw account. Because. Damn. Anyway.
> 
> (This chapter was kind of plot/prose heavy, which is unusual for me but ended up being a lot of fun. I think I balanced it pretty well with the jokes and dialogue. Next chapter is more my usual rapid-fire style.


	3. Chapter 3

Hux dreamed of ship corridors, which is a bit like saying that a normal person dreamed of driving to work.

The walls were taller than he remembered, or maybe he was smaller. It didn’t matter.

There were no doors. There were no choices. He walked in one direction because it made as much sense as going in the other.

Hux continued forward with the knowledge that he would walk these corridors forever, or until the soft light from the fluorescents burned away his skin.

\---

Hux woke up the next morning to an empty bed and the sound of muffled voices.

Life with Kylo Ren really kept you on your toes.

The voices were coming from the opposite side of the suite. He followed them to the front room, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t just thought the words “life with Kylo Ren.”

What looked like someone’s assistant was hovering outside the door, looking appropriately terrified. Kylo Ren stood in the doorway. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt.

“I _am_ the bodyguard. And he’ll come down when he’s ready. Get out.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been instructed-”

Kylo shut the door in her face.

He turned, looking pleased with himself, until he saw Hux and frowned.

“I wanted you to sleep.”

“I did. And now I’m awake. The human body is a miracle.”

Hux hadn’t really looked, last night, but he was looking now. Had Kylo Ren always been that toned? Hux felt like he would have noticed.  

He almost brought it up, but something stopped him.

It was small and nagging, but it was strong enough to make him avert his eyes and ask;

“What did she want?”

Kylo shrugged. “Does it matter? She shouldn’t have come. It’s not her place.”

The irony of his statement was not lost on Hux, as he turned to get dressed.

“You’d be amazed how seldom that stops people.”

\---

By the time Hux was ready to leave the suite for his first meeting of the day, Kylo had fallen asleep again in a way that took up the entire bed, sprawled on top of the sheets and cushions like a pasty jungle cat.

If Hux took a few moments to stare, and then a few more to run his hands lightly through Kylo’s hair, well-it was a victimless crime.

Ridiculously, Hux wondered if he should leave a note. The concept of leaving Kylo to wake up alone without saying anything gave Hux one-night-stand overtones, which was, again, ridiculous, for many reasons (but mostly one).

Ultimately he decided to just leave. Kylo wasn’t the sort of person you could coordinate schedules with, anyway. He would either be there when Hux got back that night, or he wouldn’t. Hux had long ago given up trying to predict Kylo Ren’s behavior.

Although in this case, he was fairly confident he could.   

\---

Drax walked him to his meeting, reading from a holoscreen rather than watching where she was going. Impressed with her efficiency but also slightly concerned she was going to walk into somebody, Hux placed his hand on her shoulder to guide her.

“Hmm?” she asked, looking up.

“Nothing.”

Even though he didn’t like leaving the Finalizer practically unattended, there was something comforting about having his officers here with him. They’d be leaving within the month, as the First Order flagship could hardly idle next to a planet for an extended period of time during an important campaign.

“I’ve almost finalized your schedule for the day but I need your approval on a few things. Will your meeting with President Bliss take more than an hour?”

“I doubt it. Is there really no one else who can do this, Drax? Does it have to be you?”

Her hands tightened on the holoscreen. “I . . . if you prefer someone else, sir, I’m sure I can-”

“Don’t be absurd, Drax. I only meant that you’re overqualified. Acting as my personal assistant is below you. Surely there’s someone less competent around who can manage my schedule?”

She relaxed. “Oh, I don’t mind. By the time I leave, I’ll have found a suitable replacement. For now, I don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“That’s awfully protective of you, Drax.”

“I, well. Um. Only the best.” She scrolled on her holoscreen. “The campaign manager wanted to meet with you today. He says it’s urgent. You have an hour at seven. Should I schedule him?”

“Fine.”

“Have you met him?”

“No. Apparently he has a reputation for being the best campaign manager in the galaxy, so I should hope he’s at least marginally competent.”

“I . . . _talked_ to him earlier. He’s, err.” She paused, like she was trying to find the most inoffensive word possible. “ . . . Abrasive.”

“Figures. As long as he’s good, I don’t care. And anyway,” he said, giving her a look. “You, of all people, know the sort of company I keep.”

“Yes. I do. Well.” Drax looked down at the holoscreen again, typing something furiously. “I’ll just-seven, then.”

\---

Hux’s third meeting of the day was delayed by a late arrival, which gave him about fifteen minutes to sit down and acknowledge the uneasiness that had been growing in his chest.

Hux wasn’t so prideful that he wouldn’t admit to being wrong, but he was prideful enough that admitting he was wrong would make him angry for the rest of the day.

The only thing that Hux hated more than being wrong was not knowing anything at all.

The room was empty. He shut off his holoscreen, put his hands behind his head, and stared out the window. It was one of the rare windows in the guild that was actually covered with glass, rather than being left open or shrouded in layers of elegant but impractical curtains.

The Executive Guild was built on a small hill, raising it just high enough that Hux could see the tops of buildings from where he sat, stretching into the distance like a sea of sandstone against the cloudless blue sky.

Hux didn’t know anything about Kylo Ren.

Thinking back, it was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when he’d accepted Kylo Ren as Snoke’s prodigy and chaos anthropomorphized and left it at that. Probably somewhere between, “This is Kylo Ren,” and, “Sir, Kylo Ren just destroyed a starfighter.”

Looking at it now, Hux was almost alarmed that he’d let someone get so close to him while knowing so little about them. That sort of behavior bordered on _trust_ , which, as a rule, Hux stayed away from.

It made him uneasy. He’d already let his guard down, in more ways than one; what had he let his guard down _to_?

The door opened.

“Sir, President Bliss is here.”

Hux took a moment to clear his head before nodding.

“Good. Show him in.”

\---

For only having been there a little over a day, Drax could already navigate around the Executive Guild perfectly. She led Hux through a series of hallways that Hux had never seen, on the opposite end of the guild.

“The campaign manager's set up an office in the far south-eastern corner,” said Drax, pausing to flash her credentials at a door scanner. “Said it was the only place he could get some “privacy.” He’s also taken over the southern ballroom.”

She sounded uncharacteristically disdainful.

“I get the impression that you don’t approve of him.”

Drax stared up at the ceiling, as if she had a lot to say but was far too polite to say it.

“I, personally, in my experience, find him unnecessarily demanding,” she said, very carefully. “I think, between the ballroom and the various other rooms he’s claimed, he has more than enough space for his operations. He also seems to have little respect for authority, or really anyone besides himself. However, I hope to be proven wrong, and I hope that he treats _you_ with the proper respect.”

“Masterfully maneuvered.”

“Thank you.”

They reached the door to his office, and Hux paused before going inside.

“If he’s an idiot, we’ll fire him. And, look on the bright side,” said Hux. “At least this means we won’t have to go to any balls.”

\---

The man sitting at the desk opposite the door stood when Hux entered.

“General,” he said briskly, offering his hand. “Androssi Ghost. I’m going to win this campaign for you.”

“I applaud your confidence,” Hux managed.

“Yes. I had hoped to meet with you earlier but I suppose it couldn’t be helped.”

Ghost stared at Hux for a moment, like he was sizing him up. Then he turned and walked to the right side of the room, which was furnished with a pair of armchairs separated by a low table.

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing.

He wore green robes with intricate glossy patterns and had long black hair, which was tied back. On first glance he looked completely humanoid; however, when he spoke, Hux got the impression of pointed teeth.

“I hear you’re the best campaign manager in the galaxy,” said Hux, settling into the armchair on the left and crossing his legs.

“I am.”

“And you’re modest, too.”

Ghost looked at him, and for a moment Hux thought he was going to be angry. Then, he nodded, as if confirming a fact. “ _Utilizes sarcasm when in uncertain situations or when trying to gain the upper hand._ ’ It’s in your file.”

“Brilliant.”

“I know you’re a busy man, General, as evidenced by the fact that you’ve been on this planet for over thirty hours and have only managed to meet with me, the person running your entire campaign, now,” he said, with a passive-aggressiveness that was not thinly-veiled so much as completely transparent. “So I’ll get right to business.”

He pressed a button on the table and a holographic display sprung up. It seemed to be a combination of a star map, planetary data, and a time table, all color-coordinated. After a moment of examination, Hux realized that it was a very detailed, very thorough, visual representation of his proposal.

“This is based on an early draft of your proposal, so there will be some errors. I can fix them as soon as you provide me with the final draft. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the main points of your proposal are, one; to grant yourself powers equivalent to that of an emperor, so that you may, two; lead an aggressive campaign of First Order galactic domination, where you will utilize all of the Order’s resources to conquer all relevant systems, after which you will, three; rule over these systems yourself, ushering in a new age of First Order supremacy.”

“That’s it, essentially.”

“Good. Moving on.”

He swiped at the display and the star map disappeared, replaced with a table of dates.

“This is your campaign timeline. You’re currently here, at the beginning. You will present your proposal to all voting-eligible First Order high-ranking individuals, of which there are two-hundred eighteen, in a little under a month. Then, there will be a series of debates and deliberative meetings, of which you will and will not be part of. Then they will vote, and then your proposal will be approved, and then you’ll be the most powerful man in the galaxy. Any questions?”

“Do you often run campaigns of galactic domination? You seem awfully unimpressed.”

“No. However, I’ve run several successful planetary campaigns.”

“Are any of those planets in the systems included in my proposal?”

“If you’re questioning my loyalty, I have none, except to my campaign success rate, which is currently at ninety-one percent.”

He leaned forward, maintaining eye contact.

“I am _very_ selective with my clients. I agreed to this job because, while your plan is ambitious, I think you have a very good shot at winning, which would make this the biggest and most successful campaign of all time. You don’t have to trust me, General; trust my ambition.”

Hux nodded, satisfied.

“Similarly, you can trust mine.”

“I suspected so,” said Ghost, leaning back. “ _Ambitious to the extreme.'_ That’s in your file too.”

“My file?”

“I read your psychological evaluation.”

Hux had so many questions. He settled for the most pressing one, as devoid of swears as he could manage.

“How the _fuck_ did you get a psych eval of me?”

“I have level seven access to your databases. I found one from a few years ago.”

Hux remembered, sinkingly, that he _had_ taken a psych eval the first year he’d been promoted. It was mandatory for all officers, and he hadn’t been confident enough in his position yet to blow it off.

“While we’re on the subject,” said Ghost, pulling up a file on his holoscreen-said evaluation, probably. “It says here _‘Prone to obsessive and addictive behavior_.”

“That evaluation is several years old,” said Hux, aware of how defensive he sounded.  

“So those behaviors are-”

“Gone, correct.”

“Aside from your rampant alcoholism, you mean.”

Hux sighed.

“It wasn’t _rampant_. And I cannot begin to tell you how completely, unfortunately, painfully sober I am.”

“Keep it that way and we won’t have a problem. Now, your relationship with Kylo Ren. Purely sexual?”

It was one of those moments. Hux was amazed at his own life, and at the events that, while seemingly reasonable at the time, had led to this present situation.

“Are we that obvious?”

“My assistant told me that Kylo Ren answered the door to your suite at six a.m., half-naked. So, yes.”

“Fantastic.”

“Once again. It is a physical relationship only, yes?”

“Essentially,” said Hux, dryly. He wasn’t about to get into it.

“Well, that’s something at least.”

Ghost deactivated the holoprojector and examined Hux, as if he were trying to determine whether the painting he’d just hung was straight.

“The suit is fine,” he said, eventually.

“How sweet of you to say.”

“You’re fairly attractive as well. Not much to be changed. A light stubble, I think, would give you a stronger jawline.”

Hux stared at him for a moment before smiling.

“Are you hitting on me?”

Ghost gave him a withering look.

“No, General. I value my life too much, and like my chances against the wrath of Kylo Ren too little.”

“Fair enough.”

Ghost stood up and started pacing.

“I want you to know that we’re not trying to convince people to give you this power. We’re going to make people believe that you _already have_ this power, that it’s an _outrage_ that official sanctions are withholding from you the abilities which you clearly deserve.”

He gave Hux a dry look.

“Somehow I don’t think you’ll have any trouble acting entitled.”

“I think,” said Hux, standing up. “You’re going to fit in very well, here.”

“I look forward to it. I’ll schedule your fitting for tomorrow.”

“Fitting? I hardly think that’s necessary.”

Ghost glared at him from behind his desk.   

“General, how much do you want this?”

“More than anything.”

He nodded, approving. 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

\---

Kylo met him in the front room when Hux got back that night.

“You look tired.”

“Shockingly,” said Hux, shrugging off his coat. “Taking over the galaxy is rather demanding. Bliss wants-” And then he stopped, because Kylo had just started unbuttoning his jacket.

“What? Oh.” Kylo looked at his hands, as if he hadn’t noticed what he was doing. “Sorry. I didn’t . . .”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“I, I was saying,” continued Hux, steamrolling over the fact that for a moment there, Kylo’s hands on his chest had actually rendered him speechless. “Bliss asked for an overall outline of the proposal, and the campaign manager-Ghost, you’re going to love him, by the way-has several pages of edits I need to go over by tomorrow.”

“Can’t somebody else do that?”

“If only,” said Hux, walking into the other room.

Kylo followed him a few steps behind.

“You need more towels.”

“You showered? I noticed you looked less greasy than usual.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you ever wear shirts, or are they only a special occasion kind of thing now?”

“Sometimes. I haven’t felt weather like this since . . . in a long time. I like it.”

As if on cue, a light breeze from outside ruffled Kylo’s hair. Hux supposed he should have guessed that Kylo was something of an outdoorsman. Whatever mystery past Kylo was hiding probably took place on a planet much like this one.

“Hmm,” was all Hux said. He surveyed the bedroom, which was lit warmly now with hanging balls of orange-tinted fluorescents. “We’ll have to do something about this open balcony.”

“Why? It’s nice.”

“Too exposed. It’s a safety hazard.”

Kylo gave him an amused look.

“What?” asked Hux.

“Hux, you could sleep in the middle of the street if you wanted,” said Kylo, suddenly unable to meet his eye. “As long as I’m around, nothing’s going to touch you.”

 _Oh,_ thought Hux. _So there’s that_.

He felt it, deep in his chest.

As was his policy with most emotions, he repressed it.

“I have work to do,” Hux said, looking away and picking up his holoscreen. “I’ll be in the office.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” asked Kylo, who was still standing in the doorway, staring at the floor.

“Eventually. Don’t wait up.”

He could tell that Kylo wanted him to stay, but abandoning work for Kylo was a habit Hux didn’t want to get into.

_Prone to obsessive and addictive behavior._

When he passed Kylo in the doorway, he reached out and took his hand for a moment. The fingers curled around his tightly, and it took all of his self-discipline and willpower to pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so late! I ended up splitting this chapter into two chapters because it was so long/was taking so long to write. I'm planning to publish another chapter this Friday, though! And, man. It's a fun one.
> 
> Anyway, meet Androssi Ghost; hardass campaign manager & expert at calling Hux out on his shit. 
> 
> This campaign is just taking off, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

The first protest happened around noon a few days later. 

A group of them, only five or six, stood on the street in front of the Executive Guild.

“Don’t engage,” murmured Ghost, as they passed through one of the Guild’s open-air hallways, accompanied by several assistants and officers. Between the pillars, Hux watched as the group caught sight of him and rushed over to press themselves against the fence.

“Murderer!”

Hux couldn’t resist.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t vote for you!” another yelled.

“I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of dictatorships.”

“Go,” said Ghost, placing his hand on Hux’s back and pushing him forward.

\---

Ghost glared at him once they were inside.

“Don’t engage. It only encourages them.”

“As if a protest is at all consequential to the First Order. They’re lucky I don’t have them killed.”

“You don’t want any unnecessary complications, General. You’re going to have enough already.”

“Isn’t minimizing complications _your_ job?”

“It is. And I would be _so_ grateful if you would let me do it effectively, by taking my advice when it’s offered. Since that is why you _hired_ me, after all.”

“I hired you to run my campaign, not micromanage my life.”

“If you think you can do this job better than I can, _please_. Feel free.”

One of the assistants coughed.

Ghost sighed and looked at the ceiling, like he was praying for the divine gift of patience.

“I apologize,” he said, completely insincerely. “I overstepped. Please allow me to escort His Royal Highness to his one-thirty budget allocation meeting.”

Hux rolled his eyes, but followed him down the hall anyway.

“If it offends you so deeply, I won’t talk to protesters anymore. As if I were even planning to in the first place. Satisfied?”

“Yes.”

\---

Hux hadn’t seen the Finalizer from the outside in a long time.

It hung in the orange evening sky above Decim, comparable in size and color to a relatively-large moon from this distance.

He would never admit it out loud, but ever since what he referred to as “The Incident,” he’d grown attached to the Finalizer. It had become his new pet project. Hux watched, between the sandstone pillars of the guild’s western hallway, as the advanced thrusters he’d had installed last month powered down to a soft blue, switching over from solar power to its reserves.

Hux pictured a time when it was all over, when he’d done everything he set out to do. He pictured people, staring up into the sky as the Finalizer floated into view, like a god between parting clouds. And he pictured the pride he’d feel when people pointed and said, “It started there.”

“General! Excuse me, General!”

Hux almost groaned.

A group of officers, led by Thatch, approached him from the other side of the hallway. Thatch had a woman in tow. Despite having deep red skin with black patterns, she was still, by human standards, very pretty.

“I’m glad I saw you,” said Thatch, smiling punchably. “I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Ilioan.”

He prodded Ilioan forward, who looked at Hux tentatively.

There was a beat.

“Do I bow, or . . .”

“A handshake will do.”

For all her initial timidness, she had a firm handshake and a friendly smile.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure. Between the whole General and Emperor of the Universe thing, I didn’t know the proper protocols . . . I’m rambling. Anyway, it’s an honor.”

Thatch laughed.

“She was so worried! I told her not to be.”

The way Thatch looked at her-Hux looked away. It bothered him for reasons he didn’t want to think about right now, or possibly ever. (He definitely did _not_ wonder if that was the same way Kylo looked at him.)

“She flew all the way from Vjun to visit me. It’s tough, being separated so much, but we make it work. I’ve been showing her around this place all day. It feels like a vacation! I suppose you’ve been working, then?”

“Somebody has to.”

“That’s rough. It’ll all be worth it in the end, though, right?”

“That’s the idea.”

Thatch nodded, smiling. Hux wasn’t sure whether to politely excuse himself from this nightmare or just throw himself out the open window.

“So there’s a bar not too far from here that gives free drinks to military personnel. You’re welcome to join us. I seem to recall you knew your way around a cocktail.”  

The other officers nodded, in a way that conveyed both surface-level encouragement and internal horror simultaneously.

“I appreciate the offer. Unfortunately this campaign isn’t going to run itself.”

“Come on, Hux. You’re in charge around here, aren’t you? Can’t even take a night off?”

Hux thought about punching him, right in his stupid face. While implausible, the thought gave him strength.  

“If only.”

“Some other time, then?”

“Of course.”

Thatch nodded goodbye, and he and his group walked back the way they’d came. The other officers resumed talking once they were out of earshot, as if they were relieved to be out of Hux’s presence. Just before they turned the corner, Thatch had the audacity to put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and laugh.

\---

Hux was in the sort of mood that usually resulted in somebody’s planet being conquered.

This coping method was effective, but unfortunately implausible at the moment, so he considered other options.  

Options such as murdering Thatch.

This was not the first, second, or even tenth time he’d considered this. In fact, it was a small miracle that Thatch was alive right now at all. Hux considered it a testament to his own restraint.

No, he changed his mind. He wanted to murder Thatch’s wife.

Thatch’s very sweet, very friendly, completely charming and likable wife.

He wondered if that woman was actually Thatch’s wife, or if she was just an actress that Thatch had hired for the sake of annoying him.

Whatever the case, it had worked, because nothing could have hurt Hux so deeply as the knowledge that Thatch, or really anyone he’d hated back in his childhood, was now living a happy, fulfilling life with their happy, fulfilled partner.

He hated Thatch, he hated Thatch’s wife, he hated that an idiot like Thatch was even capable of drawing this much emotion out of him, he hated that he was feeling like a failure while this close to his biggest success, but mostly he hated that it had actually just started raining, in a timing that could only be described as theatrically mocking.

The wind blew little sprays of water onto the hallway floor, as he walked back to his room, alone.

Hux looked up at the sky and dared it, on its mother’s life, to thunder.

\---

Kylo Ren was lying on a couch, reading from a holoscreen. He looked up and frowned immediately when Hux entered, as if he’d sensed his bad mood.

“Get up. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?”

Hux ignored him, glaring as he folded his coat with less care than usual.

“And put a fucking shirt on. _Honestly_.”

“Hux.”

Hux was aware that he was projecting. He took a moment to compose himself.

“Kylo Ren,” he said, almost managing a smile. “I seem to recall you’ve never been to a real bar before.”

\---

Decim didn’t have slums, but it _did_ have a red light district, which was almost as good.

The bar counter of the XXXergo Noir was a long strip of fluorescent glass. It was one of the few light sources in the room, which was shady both in terms of light and overall mortality.

It was a moderately busy night. Hux and Kylo sat at the bar, in avoidance of the larger crowds.

“Hello, officer,” said a pretty Twi’lek, sidling up to Hux. She was wearing a dress that probably moonlighted as a trawling net.

She winked at him.

“Looking to relax?”

“Sorry, I prefer to be high-strung. But have you met my friend?”

She turned and took in Kylo, and for a moment looked like she’d forgotten to be seductive. Hux didn’t blame her. The way Kylo was leaning against the bar counter right now perfectly lit the contours of his arms.

“Honestly?” she said, after a moment. “You don’t even have to pay me.”

Kylo stared at her blankly. “I’m, I’m with him, actually.”

“You’re what? Oh.” She looked between the two of them, and then relaxed and put her hand on her hip. “Then honey, you two are in the wrong bar. There’s a great place up the road a ways. My friend Odosou works there. Want me to call ahead? I can get you a discount.”

“We’ll be alright here,” said Hux. “But thank you for the offer.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

Kylo gave Hux a look once she’d walked away.

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Kylo averted his eyes.

 _I’m with him_.

And, yeah, Hux thought. This was exactly the kind of distraction he needed.

“Order of Idlewil?”

The bartender, an apathetic Durosian in an apron, slid a glass filled with blue liquid in Hux’s direction.

The look Kylo gave him when he threw it back almost nullified the euphoric rush he got from drinking it.

Almost.

“Come on, Kylo. It’s a special occasion.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I’m about to become the most powerful man in the galaxy. Special enough?”

“You could still lose the vote.”

The bar counter was lighting Kylo Ren’s face very prettily right now. Hux had always liked his face, from the moment he’d first seen him without his helmet in Snoke’s audience chamber. He was freckly and young and nothing like Hux had expected.

“Fine. The occasion is ‘Kylo Ren’s first shot of Idlewil.”

Kylo smiled.

He really was quite beautiful when he smiled.

The last reserves of Hux’s dignity and self-restraint slipped away.

Hux unbuttoned his jacket, all the way down the front. He sat up straighter, tilted his head up so that his neck was exposed, and looked at Kylo in a way that he hoped hit somewhere near sultry.

“You’re not going to make me drink alone, are you?”

\---

They rented a room upstairs. It was the only option, really. Hux doubted they could get back to the Guild at all, let alone without alerting the entire building.

Hux was too drunk to be coordinated, which was unfortunate because he was in the mood for some real freaky shit.

The moment the door closed behind them he pushed Kylo up against a wall and kissed him, hard, and they winged it from there.

It wasn’t the most romantic sexual encounter Hux had ever had, but it wasn’t the least either, which must mean something. (Possibly that Hux needs to raise his standards.)

A while later, Hux sank backwards into the bed and looked to his right.

Between recent activities and his famously bad alcohol tolerance, Kylo Ren was thoroughly out for the count. At this point, he was essentially a pile of satisfied limbs, face-planted inelegantly into a pillow.

“Hey.”

Kylo turned his head to look at him, panting and wide eyed, and Hux would never not find that look endearing-Kylo’s sort of obvious, poorly-concealed vulnerability.

“You’re a fucking-you’re,” Hux tried. “A mess. You’re a fucking mess. I love it.”

And he felt himself being actively sobered by the dawning realization that it was true.

“You are,” said Kylo, who hadn’t noticed.

They laid there for a moment.

“Can you,” began Kylo. “Could you . . . I need a towel.”

“Then get one. You have legs.”

“The thing is, I don’t think I do.”

“Tough.”

“Aren’t you going to get one?”

“Does it look like I am?”

“Why don’t you ever, why do you,” Kylo said, slurring his words. “Why don’t you ever do anything for me?”

“Kylo, you idiot,” said Hux, quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “I do everything for you.”

He might as well have been talking to an empty room.

Kylo, who was fading fast and not listening, rolled over and laid an arm over Hux’s chest.

If Kylo was awake when, several minutes later, Hux threaded his own fingers through Kylo’s, he didn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : D
> 
> Our boys are in deep, and so am I. 
> 
> Enjoy this while it lasts. 
> 
> Also I should probably mention that Thatch used to be named Quant. I changed his name for arbitrary reasons. 
> 
> Once again, thanks for all the comments! I read all of them and I love you guys.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Rose Garden

Most evenings, after the Executive Guild had closed for the day, several staff members met in the break room for a game of low-stakes sabacc.

“I’m just saying,” said Aisha, who was an assistant in the accounting division. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”

Zandaray, a security guard, drew a card from the stack. “He asked you to run some numbers. From the way you’re going on, you’d think he dropped down on one knee and begged you to rule the galaxy by his side.“

“It was the _way_ he said it.”

“What? How much implication could he have possibly fit into that sentence?” asked Jaco the receptionist. “Like, ‘Could you . . .” He paused to smoulder. “ . . . _double-check my finances?_ ”

“He just has a way,” Aisha insisted. “I think it’s equal parts charisma, cleverness, and, and, confidence. And he’s going to fall in love with me and we’ll have beautiful ginger children and that’s that.”

“Does he always look . . . tired, to you?” asked Zandaray. He picked up the deck of cards from the table and began shuffling them. “Lately the guy’s looked like he’s barely holding himself together.”

“Granted, he’s under a lot of stress. But _I_ think he’s attractive.” Aisha paused to reorganize the cards in her hand. “Is it true? About him and the . . . you know. The bodyguard?”

The kitchen assistant, Win’di, looked up.

“That he’s living in sin with Kylo Ren? Oh, that’s a fact.”

“How can Kylo Ren be here? I’ve never even _seen_ him!”

“He almost never leaves the General’s suite.”

“Why not?”

Win’di shrugged. “No idea. But I’ve seen him.”

“No! How?”

“The General has breakfast, lunch, and dinner sent to his suite, every day, regardless of whether he’s there himself. He specifically requested that a droid bring it, but when our RH-R1 broke down, I brought it myself. Guy was in the bedroom-came out to stare at me for a moment, then disappeared. Scared me half to death. He’s quiet. I guess that’s part of his job.”

“What did he look like?”

“Dark, kind of long hair. Tall. Strong features. Toned, too. Guy was shirtless-control yourself, Aisha.”

“ _I_ heard the General proposed, but Kylo Ren’s creed prevents him from marrying,” said Gloria, whose perception of the Jedi creed was both fanciful and accurate, but whose perception of Kylo’s devotion to said creed and Hux’s ability to commit were both severely overestimated.

“Don’t be silly,” said Zandaray. “He’s a trophy. Guy like the General clearly gets off on conquering things-what bigger conquest than the most powerful Dark Lord in the galaxy? Bet he gets off on making Kylo Ren beg.”

Aisha blushed, like she’d just discovered a very important personal fantasy.

“I heard their relationship’s on the rocks because he never takes the mask off,” said Jaco, leaning in. “Not even during _sex_.”

Win’di shook his head. “He wasn’t wearing it when I saw him. Besides, they’re quite clearly still together. If they weren’t, why wouldn’t Kylo Ren just leave?”

“Maybe he wants to but he can’t because his heart is sworn to the General. He’s blinded by _love_.”

“Kylo Ren? That guy’s basically an assassin, right? Doesn’t he have a reputation for, you know. Killing lots of people? I doubt he’s the ‘blinded by love’ type.”

“The General did commit genocide. Several times. Maybe that sort of thing is Kylo Ren’s aphrodisiac.”

“Every time a planet explodes, Kylo Ren just spontaneously orgasms.”

“I’ll tell you what, Aisha,” said Win’di. “If you win this hand, I’ll take you with me to the General’s suite next time RH-R1 breaks down.”

There was a moment, as Aisha suddenly became more invested in a sabacc game than she ever had been in her entire life.

“And if I win then you do my taxes.”

“Deal.”

\---

They settled into a sort of unsustainable, erratic rhythm, like a first-year music student’s experimental EP.  

Hux got up early while Kylo was still sleeping. He worked, as hard or harder than he ever had, for as long as he was needed, fueled by a sort of personal manifest destiny.  

Sometimes he got back to his suite a few hours past sunset. Sometimes he didn’t come back at all. But most nights he floated in around midnight, dead on his feet.

Kylo Ren, as far as Hux could tell, had no current objective other than to loiter in Hux’s suite, shirtless.

It was in this fashion that Hux and Kylo managed to occupy the same suite while only seeing each other relatively rarely.

One day, in the middle of a meeting, it occurred to Hux that he and Kylo Ren lived together, and had been living together for some time, and the implications of this were so enormous that he forgot what he was saying.  

\---

“It was an accident.”

Hux allowed himself to survey the room before responding.

Kylo Ren was lying on the window seat, reading from a holoscreen. His hair, which had gotten quite long recently, was tied back. On the other side of the room, what had once been a perfectly acceptable armchair lay in two pieces.

“Really?”

“It was an accident,” Kylo repeated, glancing over. “It got in the way of my lightsaber while I was practicing.”

“Ah, yes,” said Hux, nodding as he took off his jacket. “Suicidal furniture has been known to move very quickly.”

Kylo shrugged and turned back to his holoscreen.

It was dark out, but it was a warm night. Some sort of insect was making a quiet, chirping noise from outside the open window. The breeze ruffled wayward strands of Kylo’s hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading. Don’t look so surprised.”

Kylo sat up to make room on the window seat as Hux walked over.

“That’s not Basic,” said Hux, looking at the screen over Kylo’s shoulder.

“It’s not.”

“You know another language?”

“I know several.” And then he added, as an afterthought; “Most of them dead.”

“Oh. For a moment there I thought you actually had a useful skill.”

Kylo laughed.

After a moment, he laid back down again, tentatively, with his head on Hux’s thigh.

Hux spent the next several minutes concentrating on keeping his heart rate steady. He wasn’t sure if Kylo could sense that sort of thing, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

\---

Hux got fed up with weather fluctuations and had climate controls installed around the Guild.

The exception, oddly enough, was his personal suite. Whether the whole “free-spirit, at one with the elements” thing came as a result of his job or his upbringing, Kylo Ren was thriving.

It was the little things.

The way Kylo had taken to the window seat. The way he seemed to avoid clothing whenever possible. The way he’d glance out the balcony, at the sloped garden outside that eventually fell away to a line of trees, or into the sky, with its two moons and set of stars, like he was being actively revitalized by the organicness of it all.

Hux found him asleep on the low-wall of the open balcony, with one hand draped into the grass on the other side, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to install the climate monitor he’d brought with him.  

So Hux dealt with being slightly too hot or too cold like everyone else did-by complaining, but then sometimes Kylo would wrap a warm arm around him, casually, and tell him to stop whining, and Hux would roll his eyes but inside he’d consider that this was maybe a win-win situation.

\---

Hux didn’t think he’d ever seen Drax this angry before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this angry before, Colonel.”

Drax took a deep breath, in a visible effort to calm down. She placed her hands flat on Hux’s desk to steady herself.

“I’m sorry sir, if I’m being unprofessional, but he’s an absolute _menace_. It is interfering with my ability to do my job. I wanted to handle it without your intervention, but unfortunately I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Just tell me, Drax. What did Ghost do this time?”

“It’s just, everything! He ignores every decision I make, just, just goes ahead with his own plans as if I’m not even there. I asked him to change a meeting date yesterday and he said that he didn’t compromise because his schedule was too important! As if, as if mine isn’t! ” She steepled her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes. “I can’t. I just can’t, Hux. I mean, General. Sir.”

She looked tired. Not as tired as Hux was sure he looked himself, but still. This campaign was taking a toll on all of them, and it hadn’t even officially launched yet.

Hux felt an uncharacteristic wave of-not guilt, exactly, but responsibility for the pressure that his own ambition was inflicting on the people he liked.

“I’ll have a word with him.”

“Thank you, sir.” Drax shifted, like she wasn’t sure how to approach her next topic. “How’s Ren?”

Hux looked down and pretended to be occupied by something on his holoscreen.

“Fine. As far as I can tell.”

“I haven’t seen him around. Does he . . . get out, much?”

“No. Kylo Ren is the epitome of ‘not getting out much.”

“Well, the Guild has excellent training grounds. Empty, most of the time. He’s welcome to them, if he wants.”

Hux suppressed a smile. Regardless of whether Drax’s concern for Kylo Ren was genuine or just for Hux’s sake, it was an unusual feeling. He wondered when the last time was that anyone had expressed concern for Kylo Ren’s wellbeing. The fact that he couldn’t even think of a hypothetical situation tugged at something in his chest.

“I’ll pass it along.”

\---

Outside of a professional context, Hux had never spent this much time with another person before.

He was beginning to notice things.

Kylo Ren was a cuddler. Hux wasn’t, but he found that he was coping remarkably well. Kylo Ren had a thing for hips-whether they were Hux’s hips specifically or just all hips, he didn’t know. But most mornings, he woke up with Kylo’s hands somewhere near his waist. He’d have to slide them off when he got up, carefully, so as not to wake him.

Kylo Ren had diplomatic experience. This was something Hux had expected for a while, but was now sure of. It was the way Kylo picked up the documents Hux left lying around, scanned them easily, and then leveled very specific insults at Hux about everything he was doing wrong. Things like, “Are those really all the resources you’re offering to Dregdas in exchange for their support? Add at least ten more ships,” and, “Don’t waste your time trying to sign a treaty with Regalac. Their foreign relations department is, historically, garbage.”

Kylo Ren was thoughtful.

Kylo Ren’s mind seemed to occupy a deeper, more profound plane than the average person.

Kylo Ren took very long, very hot showers.

Kylo Ren would take a cold shower if it meant Hux would join him. 

Kylo Ren was an insomniac. Most days he slept in late, not because he was lazy but because it took him a long time to fall asleep. Hux would wake up in the middle of the night to find Kylo lying next to him, still awake, looking troubled. It made him wonder why Kylo came to bed with him at all.

(He knew the answer, of course, but wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet.)

\---

“Hux, do you want a rose garden?”

The question was so unexpected he had to take a moment to reaffirm he’d heard it right.

“I can’t say the thought’s ever crossed my mind,” said Hux, slowly.

Kylo nodded and stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He’d been nursing the bottle of Endorian port someone had given Hux as a gift, and he was in a strange mood.

“I’ll get you one.”

Hux wasn’t sure what to say to this.

\---

If it had been up to Hux, he wouldn’t have been giving a public speech in the first place.

But Ghost had gone on about “long-term public opinion” and “overall satisfaction ratings” so here he was, standing on the front steps of the Executive Guild, addressing a large crowd full of people who would not even be involved in the actual vote.

Between the relative inoffensiveness of the speech and his sleep deprivation, he was delivering it mostly on autopilot, which was why it was so shocking when a red spear flew past his head and landed somewhere in the crowd.

Someone screamed.  

Kylo Ren stalked past Hux, in all his helmeted, caped drama, and the crowd parted quickly.

There was a man, flailing. A lightsaber was impaled through his abdomen. He was clutching something shiny.

Kylo Ren grabbed the blaster out of his hand and dropped it on the ground. Then he put one foot on the man’s stomach and pulled the lightsaber out of his body.

He started convulsing. It looked like a bad time.

Kylo grabbed him by his collar and dragged him forward, leaving a trail of blood.

He got to the foot of the steps, looked up, and offered the lightsaber to Hux, who had been watching with a sort of shocked fascination.

“No,” said Ghost, immediately as he realized what was happening. “I absolutely, expressly forbid- _Hux come back here-”_

Hux walked to Kylo and stared into the impassive void of his helmet.

He considered it. He’d never actually killed anyone, not with his own two hands.

This was probably not the time.

Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head.

Kylo nodded, deactivated the lightsaber, and dropped the man, who fell onto the steps and immediately began crawling away.

Hux turned to walk away, Kylo by his side.

There was the telling click of a blaster being cocked.

Kylo clenched his fist in a sort of violent, ripping motion that was so powerful it looked like he was struggling to contain it to his right arm.

Behind them, there was a cracking noise, and then a sound like someone dropping a wet sponge on the floor, and then a thud.

When the screaming started, Hux flinched but did not turn around.

\---

Ghost sat with his elbows on the desk and his face in his hands, glasses pushed up to his forehead.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” said Hux.

Ghost’s loose sleeves had ridden down his arms, exposing part of what appeared to be full sleeves of tattoos-black ones that ran down his forearms in complicated designs. Hux openly stared.

“You know,” he said, his voice muffled through his hands. “I turned down a perfectly good job offer from someone running for president on Etti IV. Easy job. Simple. I could be on a beach right now.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Ghost dropped his hands so he could give Hux an incredulous look.

“You had a man killed during your speech!”

“In my defense, he tried to kill me first. He had a blaster. He was going to shoot.”

“Kylo Ren _pulled his brain out of his skull!”_

“That was Kylo Ren, not me. And I should remind you that one, I actually turned down the opportunity to kill him, and, two, these people are uninvolved with the overall vote.”

“The PR for this event alone. I can’t . . .” Ghost lowered his head back into his hands. He looked traumatized. “It was pink. The brain, I mean. Mostly red when it hit the ground.”

“You are aware whose campaign you’re running, yes? This is not your friendly presidential campaign that’s won by appealing to the masses. This is not the kind of campaign that’s won by being the nicest, or the most likable, or by telling people what they want to hear. This isn’t like your other campaigns.”

Ghost looked at him darkly. “You don’t know what kind of campaigns I’ve run.”

There was a brief silence.

“Well,” said Ghost finally. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. I’ll deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse. Just, get me a drink or something.”

Hux waited.

Ghost sighed and stood up. “Excuse me. What I meant to say was, would you like something to drink, Emperor General sir?”

“No, thank you. Oh, that reminds me; be nice to Drax, would you? She’s actually very competent, and she doesn’t need your attitude.”

“My . . . fine. Okay.”

Ghost shoved the door open and walked out.

\---

Simultaneously, somewhere, several shady figures lurked.

They were clearly plotting something. Nobody who looked that shady was ever not involved with one or more plots.

One of them, in a dark, hooded cloak, spoke up.

“We’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe it won’t even be necessary.”

“But if it is, I need your _word_.”

The shadowy figures looked at each other and nodded.

“So now we wait. But lastly, I can assure you all-”

He raised his voice for emphasis.

“That narcissistic sociopath wants to be an emperor? Over my dead body.”

\---

Hux wasn’t proud of this.

He’d run background checks on every other person living on the Finalizer. This shouldn’t feel any different.

But it did.

And so, it was with shallowly-repressed guilt that he pulled up the First Order’s private databases, entered his level 10 security clearance code, and searched for all information involving keywords “Kylo Ren.”

There was little there he didn’t already know. The most interesting fact he learned was that Kylo Ren had an eye infection a few cycles ago.

Reminding himself that he’d been _driven_ to this, that if Kylo Ren wasn't so secretive this wouldn't even be necessary, he searched for Kylo Ren’s psychological evaluation records.

There was only one. It was mostly blank. At the top, it had a statement about the patient declining to be interviewed, which Hux correctly interpreted to mean that no one had bothered asking.

The center section read; _Patient displays signs of emotional immaturity. Lack of verbal communication. Unwillingness to cooperate. Recommended for solo missions only. NOT RECOMMENDED for team missions. Volatile. Dangerous._

Hux set the holoscreen down and turned to look at Kylo, who was asleep next to him.

He looked especially soft in this lighting. His hair, which he should really cut soon, was messy and still damp from the shower. Hux pushed it out of his face.

His breath was warm against Hux’s shoulder.

_Volatile. Dangerous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : D


	6. Chapter 6

 “ . . . listen to you. I’m- _we’re_ just worried.”

It was an unexpected situation to walk in on, and not in the sexy way.

Kylo and Colonel Drax sat across from each other in the living room of Hux’s suite. It looked for all the world like they having a civil conversation, which was the first sign that something was wrong. Kylo had even put on a shirt, albeit a sleeveless one.

They hadn’t noticed Hux yet. He stepped inside.

“Worried about what?”

Kylo didn’t react at all, didn’t even turn around-probably to emphasize how surprised he wasn’t. Hux had no illusions that he was capable of catching Kylo off guard. Drax, on the other hand, swung around so quickly she almost whipped Kylo with her ponytail.

“General,” she said, looking very much like she’d just been caught with her hands down her pants, only her hands were her entire body and her pants were Hux’s suite. She averted her eyes as Hux took off his jacket, as if there was something lewd about seeing her superior officer’s bare arms. “I, nothing. I just came to deliver a gift, actually.”

Stepping forward, she pulled a small box from her jacket pocket.

“The monarchs of Ord Cestus send their regards and offer support for your campaign. They hope for a good relationship between their planet and the First Order.”

Hux turned the box over in his hands. It was a deep green velvet. On the bottom, someone had tried very hard to scrape off a “HANDLE WITH CARE” sticker.

“Anyway, that’s all.” Drax was already pulling open the front door, clearly looking to extract herself from this situation as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you at the supersonic blaster budget meeting tonight, sir. Lord Ren.”

Hux didn’t miss the look she shot Kylo before she left.

He turned to Kylo.

“Are you planning a coup with my best officer?”

“No. What’s in the box?” asked Kylo, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a brick through a window.

“Hmm? You can open it if you want.”

Hux held it out in his palm. Rather than taking it, Kylo put his hand under Hux’s, so they were both holding the box, and lifted the lid.

The ring caught the rays of afternoon sun from the balcony. It was faceted in the shape of the First Order logo.

They stood for a moment.

Hux was very aware that Kylo’s thumb was playing with his.

Because of this, it took him longer than it should have to realize that he and Kylo were standing very close to each other, touching hands, holding a diamond ring.

It was probably bad this his gut reaction was to get down on one knee.

It was probably worse that he could think of two viable actions to do once he got there.

Hux pulled away and shut the box in his hand.

“I’ll give it to Ghost,” he said, aggressively nonchalantly. “He likes jewelry.”

Kylo followed him into the bedroom.

“I haven’t seen you lately.”

“I saw you yesterday, Kylo. Don’t get clingy. It’s unattractive.”

“I only mean that since we, we stay in the same suite, you’re usually around more,” said Kylo, carefully maneuvering around the phrase “we live together.”

“I’ve been busy. Maybe you should get out more. Drax mentioned that there’s a training area. Empty, apparently, so you can brood or do pushups or whatever it is you do in peace. What were you talking about with Drax, anyway?”

Kylo brushed his hair behind his ear. He really did need to cut it soon.

“She wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been working hard lately.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.” Hux didn’t even bother with his pants. He just laid down on the bed, half-clothed, and tried not to make it too obvious how tired he was, how much he needed this.

“I have a meeting in three hours. You don’t have to join me for a power nap, but I doubt you have anything better to do.”

Hux smiled into his pillow when he felt a weight sink onto the bed beside him.

He needed that, too.

\---

The proposal date loomed closer.

Hux felt like he was pioneering both a new era of galactic unity and a new plane of consciousness brought on by a lack of sleep. How many hours can a human male stay awake before he literally collapses from exhaustion? How long before he walks into a wall? Will his years of militant self-control hold out against his body’s desire to slur his words, stare vacantly into a wall, and/or rest against the nearest sturdy surface, preferably Kylo Ren’s chest?

Every day was a thrilling adventure full of exciting new discoveries. Life was the world’s most miserable rollercoaster, and Hux was its unimpressed but flawlessly dressed passenger.

Part of Hux wondered, a bit timidly, if maybe he was working _too_ hard. Why push yourself this hard when it’s not strictly necessary? Surely some tasks can be delegated to other people, it reasoned.

But then another, more unsettling part of Hux just chanted “ALL REMAINING SYSTEMS WILL BOW TO THE FIRST ORDER” on loop, so he kept working.

He didn’t get back to his suite for three days. As much as he wanted to see Kylo, he couldn’t justify going out of his way to make it happen. It was a matter of principle, and of priorities, and of coping with the state of flux that permeated Hux’s thoughts lately.

There was no reason Hux should feel guilty.

Kylo was a grown man. He could handle himself.

\---

Phasma was in a good mood.

She’d been tied up in formalities and meetings for the past week. They were a necessary aspect of her position, but she’d be the first to admit that they weren’t her strength. Paperwork made her restless.

But the worst was behind her, and now she had a free morning to partake in her favorite hobby; hitting things really hard.

With a bag slung over her shoulder, she walked down the ornate halls of the Executive Guild toward the training grounds.

There was someone in the courtyard.

If the black clothing and facial scar didn’t give it away, the way he was pummeling the training dummy in a manner that just screamed “I have a lot of feelings,” did.

“Ren, is that you?”

The man froze and looked at her sharply. He had strong features, or maybe they were regular features accentuated by his “go away” expression.

“What,” he said, coldly.

She picked up one of the weights lying around and lifted it with one hand, mostly for show. “So you’re the guy who’s always insulting my soldiers. Thought you’d be bigger, personally.”

After a moment, she glanced over at Ren.

The look he was giving her had heralded the untimely demise of many expensive pieces of Finalizer equipment.

“I’m just messing with you. Want to spar?”

“You want to spar with me,” he repeated, flatly. He seemed to be hiding a somewhat condescending smile.

“I do.” She took two wooden staffs from the rack and threw one to Ren. “Think we’re so useless? Prove it.”

Ren caught the staff, stared at it for a moment, and then smiled.

Menacingly.

\---

They were almost equally matched.

Without Ren’s use of the Force and Phasma’s use of a blaster, they were both at a similar disadvantage to their usual styles. Their raw bodily strength was almost identical.

“You’re holding back,” Phasma said, blocking one of Ren’s quick strikes. “You’re toying with me.”

He frowned. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“Darth Vader wouldn’t have held back.”

The fire in his eyes was immediate. Phasma wondered if this look turned Hux on, and also if this would be her last thought.

\---

Inexplicably, Ren watched Phasma ice her shoulder with a sort of nervous expression.   It was- odd. Kylo Ren, the murderer, the assassin, the force of destruction, looked like he genuinely regretting hurting her. Rather than storming off immediately after winning, as she’d expected, he had put both of their staffs back and stuck around awkwardly while she cleaned herself up. He looked young, Phasma realized now. She hadn’t expected that.

“This is going to be an impressive bruise,” said Phasma, breaking the silence.  

Ren gave her a look, and she grinned.

“What? Think you’re the only one around here who can take a hit?”

“I guess not.” He shifted, nervously. “You fight well.”

“You do too. How much of it is you and how much is the Force?”

Ren shrugged. “It’s hard to differentiate. I only consciously used it near the end, for that last hit.”

“It was quite a punch, that last one.”

“ . . . Thanks.”

Tentatively, he sat down next to her.

Phasma pulled her right sleeve down.

“He was a mess without you, you know,” she said casually, applying a healing salve to her upper arm.

“What?”

“He’d never admit it, but he’s not as unflappable as he wants to believe he is.”

Ren stared.

She closed the jar of salve and stood up.

“The Finalizer’s leaving soon, Ren. I’m going with it. I doubt this campaign is going to be without its altercations. You and I are fighters. You can take more hits than he can. Protect him.”

Kylo opened his mouth to say something, and then appeared to change his mind, as if deeply conflicted.

“He’s so . . . fragile,” he tried. “He seems breakable.”

Phasma slung the bag over her shoulder.

“To you, doesn’t everything?”

\---

It was another rough day in the unending series of sequential rough days that made up Hux’s life.

He had been going over the intricacies of section 15B (Predicted Fleet Replacement Costs) of the proposal for hours. Three visiting dignitaries had called. He’d been late to two meetings. The protests were getting more frequent and more popular.

Everyone was being especially incompetent today, or maybe Hux had finally exhausted his tolerance for stupidity. Either way, he was irrationally angry.

Which was not a very good mindset to be in when going home to your kind-of-boyfriend, whom you’ve completely ignored for three days.

\---

“Where have you been?”

Hux glared as he pulled off his coat.

“Really? Okay, you caught me. I’ve been sleeping with every single person in the building. Ghost, Drax, that brainless corpse- all of them. Where do you think I’ve been, Kylo? I’ve been working, because someone in this building has to.”

Kylo glared back, which just made Hux angrier.

“I’m not in the mood for this, Hux.”

“Oh, _you’re_ not in the mood? Was the steak slightly overcooked? Did housekeeping wake you up from your midday nap? Are the sheets just a little bit too stiff?”

“Hux, you’re so- you’re impossible sometimes.”

“ _I’m_ impossible? I’m the sanest person in this building, Kylo.”

“I can’t do anything right. And I haven’t even done anything! I’ve barely left this room the whole time! I haven’t, you know. Broken anything, even!”  

“Do you want an award?”

The part of Hux that wasn’t mindlessly furious belatedly registered what Kylo had just said. He’d just admitted to attempting to lay low, just so he didn’t cause Hux any problems.

(Later, this truth would hit Hux somewhere deep in his chest.)

“I don’t know what you want from me, Hux.”

Hux rolled his eyes.  “What’s wrong with you? I’m just working, Kylo. Like I always have, like I always will.”

“You were gone for three days.”

“Clearly I should have stayed longer.”

Hux grabbed the coat he’d just taken off and pulled his arms through the sleeves. He concentrated on the buttons because he was a responsible adult who took pride in his appearance and not because he wanted to avoid looking Kylo in the eye.

Shrugging the coat’s shoulders into place, he turned and walked towards the door.

Footsteps followed him. Kylo was nothing if not incapable of taking a hint.

“So? See you in three days, then?”

Hux turned. “I’ll make you a deal, Kylo. I’ll tell you my schedule in exchange for any, single, little minute detail about your past. Your hometown. The school you went to. The name of your pet goldfish. I don’t care. Anything at all.”

The fear in Kylo’s eyes was all the confirmation he needed.

“That’s what I thought,” said Hux, and he left.

\---

Hux was in the mood for an argument, and he was pretty sure he knew where to find one.

Ghost had an attendant standing guard outside his door. Of course he did, the aristocratic prick.

“May I?” Hux said to the attendant, in a tone that was both a question and a threat.

The attendant looked trapped.

“Well, sir, Mr. Ghost has actually, not informed me of any visitors, even ones such as, err, illustrious as yourself . . .”

Hux glared.

“ . . . but I’m sure it would be fine. Probably. Go right ahead.”

“Thank you,” he said, shoving the door open with both hands.

Ghost’s suite was predictably extravagant. It reminded Hux of a dragon’s treasure cave, if that dragon had a weakness for silk and liked to boss Hux around. It got less organized and more cluttered the farther Hux got from the entrance, culminating in a pile of jeweled perfume bottles stacked on top of a decorative bantha statue stacked on top of a mismatched luggage set.

“Ghost! Get up!” he yelled in the general direction of the inner suite.

There was silence. Hux considered breaking one of the decorative vases that lined the wall, but ultimately restrained himself. Knowing his luck, it contained Ghost’s mother’s ashes.  

His patience exhausted after about thirty seconds, he pushed farther into the suite.

“Ghost? Wake up. We need to go over the specifics of section 15B of the proposal and-”

Hux stopped.

The living room was lavish in the sort of way that Hux had once considered desirable- back when he was fifteen and had yet to begin his passionate love affair with brutalism. At least ambition had sharpened his fashion sense.

Ghost was lying on the floor, flat on his back. His eyes shifted when Hux walked in, but he didn’t get up or otherwise move.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Hux found himself completely unprepared to deal with this situation. Words failed him. Eventually, he managed;

“It smells like incense.”

Ghost nodded, slowly. “That would be the incense.”

There was a sort of dullness in his eyes.

“Are you . . . high?”

Ghost closed his eyes and made a small, happy, humming noise. “There is a definitely possibility.”

“I can’t believe you. I can’t believe this. This some sort of horrible fever dream.”

Ghost regarded him for a slow moment. “Boyfriend kick you out?”

“No. For one thing, it’s _my suite._ And I . . . chose to leave, voluntarily.”

He nodded. “You know what you need?”

“A therapist? Seventeen hours of sleep?”

“Tea. I’ll make you some.”

\---  
Hux watched in fascination.

Ghost had rolled back his sleeves, exposing his tattoos, and was kneeling down to get a better angle with which to expertly crack open the vial he’d ripped out of a stimpack on the side of a table.

It wasn’t that Hux didn’t have any comments. He was just that he was afraid if he spoke, he’d interrupt the strangeness that was happening in front of him. It was a bit like a double rainbow- not the sort of thing he imagined witnessing twice.

Ghost poured about a quarter of the blue liquid into a cup, and then opened a small oak box sitting on his desk. Hux glimpsed several bags of powder, pills, and various organic material.

Ghost dropped what looked like a shriveled root into the cup, which dissolved immediately. He stirred the liquid with his pinky finger and then slid the cup across the desk.

“There.”

Hux gave him a long look.

“This . . . isn’t tea, is it.”

“It’s fun in a cup. Go on.”

“Is it safe?”

Ghost rolled his eyes and took a sip. “There. Perfectly safe. I’ve done it a hundred times.”

Something about the way he said it convinced Hux that this was not an exaggeration.

The whole situation was insane.

Hesitantly, Hux picked up the cup.

\---

The next hour was something of a blur. Hux had a vague memory of laughing into one of the pillows on Ghost’s couch until he cried, and of using Ghost’s holoscreen to write ten pages of revelatory changes he wanted to make in the proposal, and of Ghost physically pulling him away from the door to prevent him from implementing said changes on the spot.  

Once he’d come down to a reasonable state, he found himself sitting on the living room couch with Ghost.

“So how long have you two been together?” Ghost asked. He’d taken another hit of whatever he was on and was curled up on the other end of the couch. Hux was finding this version of Ghost much more tolerable, if a bit too familiar.

“We’re . . . not. Officially.”

“You’re kidding.”

“If only.”

“You were more upset tonight than when that man’s brain was pulled out of his body. You can’t expect me to believe it’s _really_ just sex.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Do you love him?”

“I can’t even begin to consider answering that question.”

“Drink more tea.”

Hux did.

“So what then?”

“I told you. It’s complicated. I’m not, we’re not. I . . . like him, but I’m wary of, of. I’m just wary.”

He was too high for this conversation, or maybe he was exactly high enough for this conversation.

Ghost nodded. “You don’t want to have a weakness.”

“I . . . maybe.”

Ghost had let his hair down and changed into a salmon-colored flowery lounge robe which, if Hux were being honest, was maybe a little too transparent. In addition to the previously-noted tattoo sleeves, his legs were completely shaved, Hux noted nonjudgmentally and with respect of other people’s lifestyles. Regardless, he looked very comfortable. Hux, in his stiff officer’s uniform, was jealous. He’d lost the shoes and jacket and, oddly, one sock, but there’s only so relaxed you can get in an outfit largely composed of starch.

“I understand, Hux. Attachments,” Ghost said, emphatically. “Will kill you. I avoid them at all costs. My clients always believe they’re infallible. “ _Oh, but Androssi, this won’t be a problem. I trust her. She can handle herself._ ” And then I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout once the dream girl’s gotten herself kidnapped or gets exposed as a spy or, or writes a tell-all memoir.”

“I agree.”

“You agree in theory, but not in practice.”

“You’re relentless.”

Ghost grinned. “I bet the sex is amazing, though.”

“Well. No complaints here.”

“Can he do things with the Force?”

“Yes. He can, um. He can do many things.”

“Can he make things vibrate?”

Hux paused.

“I . . . I’m going to have to get back to you on that one.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“You know,” said Hux, smiling. “I thought you were boring. All rules.”

“Unlike you, some of us are capable of keeping our private lives out of our work.”

“Do you do drugs with all of your clients?”

“Just the ones I like.”

“Have you slept with any of your clients?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions.” Ghost leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. “A lady never tells.”

Although his mind was still hazy, Hux was now more curious than ever about his enigma of a campaign manager.

“What about you? Got someone waiting for you back on Cargamalis?”

Ghost actually scoffed. “There’s nothing for me on Cargamalis.”

“Do we have a case of tragic backstory?”

“We might.”

They settled into a comfortable silence. Hux felt the last of the drugs wearing off, and suddenly he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

Ghost appeared to be in a similar state. With an undignified groan, he pushed himself onto his feet.

“I’m going to bed. You can sleep on my couch.”

“How generous of you.”

“Don’t get smart, Hux. I will never be high enough to dismiss Kylo Ren’s possessive streak.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be scared of Kylo. He thrives on being mysterious and terrifying and dramatic but he wouldn’t hurt my friends. I think he’d like you, actually.”

Hux caught the look on his face before he turned away.

“You know, Ghost, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before.”

“It’s the teeth. They scare people.”

\---

Aisha Valdez, an assistant in the accounting division, was on her way to breakfast when she saw a very ruffled General Hux leave Campaign Manager Ghost’s suite, look around, catch her eye awkwardly, and then turn and walk away.

She slapped both hands over her mouth.

\---

They held it together for a few more days.

Hux was practically a professional at picking his battles, and with the proposal date growing nearer he didn’t have the mental energy or time or even desire to address the uneasiness in his personal relationships.

Kylo did what he usually did, which was be mysterious and not talk about his feelings while at the same time making it very obvious that he had some.

Hux was sleeping less and less. He found that he couldn’t fall asleep, or that he would wake up after an hour, on edge. He started keeping odd hours, going between his office and his suite at all hours of the night.

When he got out of bed and started putting his clothes on nearly twenty minutes of having gotten into bed, Kylo sat up and frowned.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Use a pillow. It’ll make a better cuddle buddy, among other things.”

“You’ve barely slept.”

“I slept in Ghost’s office between meetings today.”

“Hux, come on. You’re, you know. Stay.” He avoided Hux’s eyes.

Hux pulled on his boots.

“Duty calls.”

“You’re never here. You’re always working.”

“Some of us have jobs, Kylo. I know the concept of working for a living is completely foreign to you, but please try to understand.”

Hux left the bedroom, hoping to end the conversation there. Annoyingly, Kylo followed him into the other room.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Your investment in this relationship really warms my heart, Kylo. The moment I’m not available to you at all times and fail to pass your standards for bodily attraction, you’re always there to tell me how I could be better serving you.”

“Look at yourself. You’re sick. It’s obvious. This isn’t, it can’t be healthy.”

“Did you- healthy? Really? You’re talking to me about healthy? You?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Oh _sure,_ when you ignore your health to accomplish your goals it’s noble, but when I do it it’s not healthy. Believe it or not, you’re not the only person in the world who has a life’s ambition.”

“That was different. That’s what I train for. The Force sustains my body in a way that-”

“So I can’t do this because I’m _weaker_ than you?”

“No! I didn’t say that!” Kylo was clenching his fists now, like he was trying not to break something. “I just . . . don’t . . . want to watch, this. You doing this to yourself.”

Hux turned on his heel, and Kylo actually flinched at the expression on his face. Hux was aware that he was practically screeching. “We are _tools_ , Kylo! We are tools for the First Order. Albeit, some of us are more useful tools than others, but still. I don’t matter. You don’t matter. _This_ doesn’t matter! Our worth lies in our service to the First Order. The First Order comes before everything else, and even though you’ve clearly lost sight of this, I haven’t.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Hux was breathing heavily.

And then, absurdly, Kylo smiled slightly. Daring to look sympathetic, he walked forward and slid his hand behind Hux’s neck. Hux, who was still glaring, tried not to lean in.

Kylo kissed him. Long, slow, and delicate, hands pulling him in while at the same time being careful not to ruffle his carefully-combed hair.

It was- it was something. There was something. _Everything_ , corrected a voice in Hux’s head. It was strange and terrifying and heavy and weightless and he wanted it.

Kylo took his hand and rested his forehead against Hux’s.

_“Hux.”_

It was just a name, but Hux read the implication perfectly. Kylo, while secretive in some ways, had always been very obvious in others.

Hux allowed himself to memorize everything about this moment (the warmth, the safety), braced himself, and then pulled away abruptly.

It was like ripping off a bandage.

“I have to go.”

He didn’t look at Kylo as he left.

\---

When Hux got back that night, the suite was empty.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah. 
> 
> So it's been. A while. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay. I'll spare you all the details (plenty of those on my tumblr) but overall I'm just very happy to be able to finally share this chapter with you guys. It's a really big one in terms of, well, everything. Mostly I'm just really glad we can talk openly about the fact that Androssi Ghost is a fucking space stoner. 
> 
> Next chapter's gonna be shorter but sooner, hopefully. Once again, I love you guys so much for the support! I read all the comments and reply to as many as I can. 
> 
> Special thanks to [Sasha](http://starfleetofficial.tumblr.com/) for helping me out with this one.


	7. Chapter 7

Due to the influx of protesters, more soldiers had been assigned to stand guard around the Executive Guild’s pressure points. 

Trip and Yelenic had the night shift in the north-eastern hall. This shift was perpetually uneventful, and as such had very quickly catalyzed a friendship between the two guards. 

It had been awkward at first, with the usual small talk.

_ “Who kidnapped you as a child?” _

_ “Oh, cool. How about you?” _

_ “Where did you undergo brainwashing?” _

_ “Nice, my friend went there. Do you know him?” _

Exhausting all acceptable topics of casual conversation (childhood, weather, have-you-ever-seen-kylo-ren, sports, siblings) within the first hour, they’d had no choice but to begin a series of nightly heart-to-hearts that would quickly become a high point of each other’s days.

When you’re required to stand next to someone for five hours every night, you’ll find that your relationship moves at an exponentially-increasing rate in either the ‘friend’ or ‘enemy’ direction. 

Tonight, they were discussing the latest guild gossip. 

“Here’s what I don’t get,” said Trip, adjusting his ammo belt. “General’s about a month away from becoming the most powerful man in the universe, right? Gonna be rich as hell. And he’s not, you know. Not to sound gay, but he’s alright looking.”

“Yeah, yeah,” agreed Yelenic, nodding. “I mean, I like women but-”

“Me too man, me too.”

“But I can see how, you know. Someone else would be, wouldn’t be completely repulsed.”

“Right. So I’m saying he’s got the three magical qualities; power, money, and looks. He could have any chick he wants. He could have fifty chicks.”

“Or fifty guys.”

“Right. Or half and half. I’m not judgin’. You do you, you know.”

“For sure, man.”

“But I’m saying that ladies, or,  _ companions _ , should not even be an issue for this guy. So why does he pick the most unstable, murderous, infamously insane guy in the universe? Like sure, Kylo Ren’s hot-”

“If you’re gay,” interjected Yelenic.

“Right, which I’m not. But if I was into that I’d probably think that he’s hot. Like, the muscles and everything.”

“Have you seen his arms?”

“They’re very well-defined.”

“That guy lifts. How much do you think he benches?”

“More than you.”

“Shut up, man.”

“Make me.”

They made eye contact for one long, forcibly heterosexual moment.

“Anyway,” said Trip, looking away and reaching to push his hair back. “My point is that he’s going through a lot of unnecessary trouble for this guy.” 

Yelenic shook his head. “Rich people, man. The only problems they have are the ones they cause for themselves.”

“No common sense.”

“I mean, it’s one thing to have problems during a relationship. Everyone has those. But why would you make the conscious decision to be with someone when you know it’s going to be an uphill battle? Why would you choose a hard relationship over an easy one?”

They fell silent for a moment. 

It was a cool night. The golden curtains covering the skylight drifted in the wind. 

“Maybe it’s like your Aunt Mary.”

“What?”

“That thing you said about your Aunt Mary.”

“That her ex-husband cheated on her with the gardener?”

“No, the other thing.”

“That she should file a patent for her banana crumb muffin recipe?”

“No, the other thing. The thing about the bags.”

“Oh. That she spends all her money on designer handbags?”

“Yeah. Like, she _ knows _ they’re just the same bags they sell on the street with a fancy label stuck on them. She knows that. But she likes them better because she gave up more to get them. Maybe it’s  _ because _ it’s a struggle,” said Yelenic, staring upwards. “Maybe that makes it worth more, or maybe that makes it  _ feel _ like it’s worth more.”

“Maybe.” 

They contemplated this for a moment. 

“Or maybe Kylo Ren’s ass tastes like bourbon.”

Their laughter was cut off abruptly by a loud slamming noise.

“What was that?” 

“Probably the wind. This place and its stupid open-air hallways. Lets the weather right in. Pretty, sure, but annoying as-”

\---

“Hux!” 

Drax called, sprinting down the hallway after the retreating figure in black. “Sir, I’m glad I caught you. I’m- are you okay?” 

She was startled out of her urgency by the look on Hux’s face when he turned around. Haunted, shocked, a little bit like he’d just been hit by a sick burn. 

“Fine,” he said, quickly.

“Are you sure? I thought I heard a door slam. Did something happen?”

“No. I am completely fine. Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh.”

She hadn’t expected him to remember the date the Finalizer crew was set to return to the ship, and from his expression it was obvious she was right. She understood. Maybe on a normal week she would have felt a little smaller, a little less important, but she saw the redness around Hux’s eyes and the the way he had somehow managed to get even paler and all she felt was sympathy. 

For Hux’s sake, she did her best not to show it. 

“The ship is leaving tomorrow night, but I’m hoping to board in the morning to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Which it won’t. Sensible of you, though.” 

“And thank you, also, for naming me Commander of the Finalizer in your absence. It’s truly an honor. I appreciate your faith in me, and I hope to make you proud.”

“Oh, come on, Drax. You were the obvious choice. Who else would I have chosen? Mitaka?”   


They laughed. 

“Anyway,” said Drax, wiping her eyes. “I’ll see you.”

Hux saluted. “Good luck, Commander.”

She almost left it there, but instead she summoned all of the boldness and courage in her five-foot four frame and said, shakily, “Sir, um. Permission to, uh, would it be alright if . . .”

Hux looked both ways, and then nodded. “Quick, before someone comes.”

She hugged him, tightly around his chest because she was short and he was tall. She felt an arm squeeze her back for one awkward second. Coming from Hux, this was the equivalent of a knighthood. 

Drax stepped away and grinned. “Take care of yourself, Hux.”

He smiled back and waved her off. 

“I’ll be fine,”

\---

he lied. 

\---

You may be under the impression that this is a love story. 

And you’re not wrong in the sense that, what isn’t? Bring me a story without love and I’ll tell you I’ve already seen James Cameron’s  _ Avatar _ .

As most stories are, this story is a lot of things. It’s a love story, and a comedy, and a sci-fi thriller of moderate proportions, and a self-aware authorial masturbatory experience, and a ginger general’s power fantasy come to almost-fruition.

Let’s recap. 

Our antiheroes, our star-crossed (dare I say it)  _ lovers _ , have parted ways.

General Hux is obsessively and fanatically pursuing his destiny of becoming emperor of the galaxy. He is, at this point, just days away from presenting his proposal to the First Order elite, a proposal which he has been refining with recently-employed but somehow also long-suffering campaign manager Androssi Ghost for over a month, a proposal which he’s been planning for over a year. 

The results of the vote on this proposal will jump-start either one of the biggest campaigns of galactic domination of all time or the youngest retirement of any First Order or Empire General of all time. 

Hux knows this. 

He is, to put it colloquially, losing his shit. 

There is a group of vaguely sinister individuals, as well as an awful lot of understandably indignant taxpayers, who are hellbent on Hux’s vote failing. 

The Finalizer, along with Colonel Drax and Captain Phasma, are gone. 

Kylo Ren is gone.

And yes, this story is a comedy, but as I’m sure you’ve begun to realize, it’s a comedy in the way that Al Capone’s laundromats were legitimate business ventures.

The truth is that this story is rooted in something much darker. 

This is a story about self-destruction. 

\---

The nights were the worst of it. 

At least during the day the Guild was a hub of activity, and it was easy for Hux to immerse himself in campaign work. At night, distractions were harder to come by. He avoided his own suite as much as he could- it felt empty. Instead, he’d taken to lurking in Ghost’s office, perfecting some minute aspect of the proposal until the morning sunlight began to stream in through the skylight. 

Sometimes Ghost stayed up with him. Most nights he’d leave around midnight and come back sometime in the morning, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and holding a steaming cup of one of his many exotic teas. 

Unexpectedly, Hux’s intrusion went unmentioned in Ghost’s unending stream of criticisms. If he minded Hux’s constant presence, he didn’t show it. Hux suspected he didn’t, since Ghost wasn’t the kind of person not to complain about something. 

One late morning he woke up and lifted his head off of Ghost’s desk, to find Ghost sitting on the couch with his holoscreen. 

“Sorry,” said Hux, tapping at his holoscreen to check the time.  

“What? 

“I didn’t mean to- you can have your desk back.” 

“Oh,” said Ghost, looking unbothered. “It’s fine. When you get a moment, though, I’d like to review the section on Infantry Maintenance.” 

Hux took this incident as permission to sleep in Ghost’s office whenever he wanted, which allowed him to further avoid his own suite. 

He slept whenever. He ate whenever.

He worked all the time. 

\---

The First Order elite, who had begun gathering for quite some time now, generally stayed away from the campaign area of the Guild, which was good because Hux wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw Thatch. Maybe he’d kill him- just shove a holoscreen down his smug throat. Or worse, maybe he’d tell the truth. Maybe he’d just say, “You were right. All along, you were right.” 

\---

“Cancel my next meeting.”

President Bliss and his people had just left the conference room. While Ghost immediately stood up and began collecting their presentation items, Hux had stayed seated, and was staring blankly at the table. 

“Your . . .  with the ambassador, you mean?”

“Yes. Cancel it.”

“Why?”

Slowly, like a landslide, Hux lowered his head into his hands and slumped in his chair.

“Nevermind,” he said, after a moment. “Don’t cancel it. Just tell them I’ll be late. You know the entire presentation. Just start. I’ll be there in twenty, fifteen minutes. Ten.”

He didn’t move. 

“Are you dying?”

“I’m fine. Go ahead without me.”

“. . . Alright,” said Ghost, after a moment. 

\---

At some point, it had stopped being about Kylo. 

It had never been entirely about Kylo in the first place, Hux would have admitted, if he were in the practice of admitting those sorts of things to himself. It was the same way that Kylo’s tantrums had never really been entirely about Hux. 

This shouldn’t come as a surprise. In the history of the universe, no one has ever acted entirely as a result of someone else. Put it this way; when a man throws a brick through the window of a bakery because he doesn’t like the baker’s pie, who do they put in jail?

Everything anyone has ever done, everything anyone has ever created, said, or written, has been, at its core, about themselves. 

It’s well past midnight. A figure sits at a desk in a dark room. The only light comes from a lamp near the desk. It is silent. The building is either empty or asleep.    

The figure, who is working very hard on something, actively tries not to look at the clock and fails. The time they see makes them stop, abruptly, and lean back in their chair. 

It’s been a long night. 

They try to go back to their work but find that they can’t. Their mind, which is usually very good at holding these thoughts back during the day, has recognized that the protective barriers are currently lowered and decides to take full advantage. 

They admit to themselves that they don’t know what they’re doing and that they’re afraid they’re going to fail. 

They think the words,  _ “It’s not enough. I’m not enough.”  _

Childishly, they want to go home. They don’t know where home is, but they know it’s not here. This place and this time are not home. 

Home. They try to picture it. Their mind immediately goes to a person. They close their eyes and picture that person walking through the door and smiling, and they may not be religious but for a few moments they pray, as hard as they can, to be granted this one gift. 

The moment passes. 

They open their eyes. They are still alone. Their work sits unfinished in front of them. They consider saying, “Fuck it,” and abandoning it. They consider making excuses.

They consider a lot of things. 

Then, they sigh, stretch, and get back to work. 

It’s not just about one person. It never has been.  

\---

The Commander’s uniform suited her. 

She’d had to have the legs taken in twice, but overall the tailor had done a good job with the design. And Drax wouldn’t lie- every time she passed one of the Finalizer’s dark windows into space, she took a moment to admire the new stripes near her neck. 

She was staring at them now, in the reflection of the railing on the bridge. 

“Ma’am, we have an incoming transmission from Decim.” 

“General Hux?” she asked, hopefully. 

“No. He says he’s the campaign manager.”

“Oh,” she said, deflating slightly. “Well, patch him through. I guess.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A red blinking light appeared on her console, indicating a waiting call.

She stared at it. 

Then, she sat back in her chair. 

After a moment, she pulled up her monitor and scrolled through her inbox. President Bliss had sent her a message regarding the Finalizer’s expected schedule over the next month. Drax began composing a reply. 

She took her time. 

“Ma’am, we’re set to enter Felucian airspace in around two hours.”

“That’s fine. Can you update me when we have a solid arrival time?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Drax finished her message. She reread it, twice, and then sent it. 

The control room was relatively quiet at the moment. A few of the technicians had gone on break. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed nothing more interesting than the black vacuum of space. 

She stretched. 

Then, very reluctantly, she tapped on the call button. 

“Ghost. I apologize for making you wait. Commanding a ship- very busy, I’m sure you understand.”

_ “Oh, sure. You can’t pull that power play with me, Drax. I wrote that power play.” _

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, beaming. “Anyway, did you need something? I hate to rush you but once again, very busy.”

_ “Actually,” _ he said, hesitantly.  _ “I wanted to ask you about Hux.” _

“The General? Go on.”

_ “He’s been behaving strangely, as of late. Should I be worried?” _

“I don’t know. Will it affect your precious bottom line?”

_ “Firstly, yes. Secondly, as unlikely as this may sound, there’s still a shred of empathy left inside my cold husk of a heart.” _

“Sure there is.”

_ “Drax . . . Ren left him. He’s taking it . . . rather hard.” _

“Kylo left him?” she exclaimed, a little bit too loudly. A nearby technician looked over. She lowered her voice. “I highly doubt that. Kylo adores him.”

_ “He’s been gone for over a week. So. Not anymore, clearly.” _

“Did Hux tell you this?”

Ghost laughed, bitterly.  _ “No, he didn’t tell me. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the need to share this very personal piece of information with me, since, you know, he’s usually so forthcoming with his emotions.” _

“Then how do you know? Hux’s behavior is an indicator, but it’s not fair to make assumptions.”

_ “Trust me. I guarantee they haven’t been near each other in eight days.” _

“How?”

_ “You don’t want to know. _ ”

“Actually I do. Even more, now that you said that.”

_ “Ask me again after a few drinks. The issue at hand is that Hux might literally work himself to death.” _

“His devotion to his work has always been somewhat extreme. Bordering on unhealthy.”

_ “‘Bordering.’ There’s nothing borderline about this, Drax. He was fine before, but the moment Ren left he went off the deep end.” _

“What happened?”

_ “I don’t know. And somehow, I get the impression he wouldn’t tell me if I asked.” _

“Why are you telling  _ me _ this?”

_ “Because you’re his friend! Do something! Call his mom! Send him a cake! I don’t know!” _

“I . . . don’t think I can help. I don’t know what to do.”

_ “Well, me either. It’s getting worse. He’s a nightmare to deal with. He’s just so angry, all the time. Working with him is impossible.”  _

“I can relate.”

_ “Drax, I swear.” _

“No, really though. I’m worried too. I wish I could be there, but I can’t. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe he’ll be okay once the proposal’s done.”

_ “Maybe.” _

There was a brief silence. 

“I know it isn’t in your job description but, if you could, could you please . . . if he dies, it’s going to look really bad on your records.”

_ “I’ll do my best. And for what it’s worth, which, you know- not much, probably, but I actually like Hux rather a lot.” _

“Yeah,” she said, staring forward into space. “I do too.”

\---

One night, sometime between midnight and morning, Hux leaned on the counter with one arm while he splashed cold water on his face with the other. 

He was in his suite. He’d admit that he’d taken a liking to it, in the beginning, but now it just annoyed him. It was familiar in all the wrong ways. 

Hux looked up and didn’t recognize the person in the mirror, because that person was crying. 

That person was sad and alone and desperate. That person was an ugly crier. They were blotchy and red and the opposite of royalty. They looked like a very pale baby throwing a very large tantrum. 

Hux slapped himself. 

He barely felt it, and then spent the next fifteen minutes holding a cold washcloth to his face because the red handprint on his white cheek gave the wrong impression. 

\---

Hux’s scorn and general bitterness had reached an all-time high, which was actually something of an achievement. 

“Send these numbers to finance. I want the results by tomorrow.”

“For inventory?” asked Ghost, sounding appropriately annoyed. “We already ran very similar numbers yesterday, minus the weapons budget.”

“Then they’ll be so familiar with these numbers that they’ll have no problem sending them back by tonight.”

“This is unnecessary.”

“As long as there are unknowns, everything is necessary. I cannot-” He broke off suddenly and covered his face with his hands. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” 

Hux didn’t answer for a moment. “Make me more of that . . . tea. With the root.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Ghost stared at the ceiling. “It occurs to me that introducing the future emperor of the galaxy to hard drugs was maybe not one of my best decisions.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I was  _ high _ , Hux.”

“I don’t care. Do it. That’s an order.”

Hux looked down at his papers. Ghost didn’t move, but Hux was prepared to ignore him. 

“Hux, you absolute fuck.”

Hux looked up. “Excuse me?”

“I am  _ done _ . Apologize to your boyfriend and suck his dick or whatever it takes to get him back because I cannot work with you while you’re like this.”

“You  _ work for me _ . I _ own you _ .”

“You don’t even own a comb!” Ghost yelled. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I understand your refusal to have my team work on the proposal. It’s sensitive information. Two especially competent people can do the job just as well as a team. However, this only works when both people are functioning adults who are not in a perpetual state of tantrum because a boy broke up with them.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I would love for it to be none of my business! I would absolutely, fucking,  _ rejoice _ if your relationship with Kylo Ren didn’t involve me at all! Unfortunately, you make it everyone’s business by throwing the biggest temper tantrum in the galaxy and acting like a zombie, and then expecting me to pick up your slack!”

“I’m not a zombie.” It was the best comeback he could think of, which was probably indicative of his mental state. 

“You’re being inefficient and you know it. It’s embarrassing for all of us. Go sleep, have a nice meal, maybe do some yoga, and then come back when you’re ready to function like a human again.”

“I’m fine, Ghost. I can handle it.”

“Leave, Hux.”

“Make me.”

They glared at each other (with a pretext of blatant non-hetersexuality that was very strong but irrelevant to the current situation.)

Finally, Ghost sighed. 

“I didn’t want to have to do this.”

“Oh, please. Reveal your master plan. I’m shaking.”

Immediately after saying this, Hux realized he  _ was _ shaking. He couldn’t remember if he’d slept the previous night, or even the night before that. He put his hand on his knee to steady it.  

Ghost said nothing, tapping buttons on his holoscreen. There was a brief silence. Hux, refusing to let the tension die, glared doubly as hard. 

Ghost set the holoscreen on the table and looked up. 

“Hux.”   


“Yes?”   


“Happy birthday.”

It took Hux a moment to respond. 

The reason for this was because it was such a ridiculous statement and he was so tired that he actually had to check, to look back into his internal calendar and confirm that it was not his birthday. 

“It’s not my birthday,” he said, with a reasonable amount of confidence but not as much confidence as one would hope for when discussing their own birthday.

“No. It’s not.”

“Okay.”

“Hux, did you read my contract?”   


“Yes.”

“Page seven. The Birthday Clause.  _ ‘In the event of a surprise party, the client agrees to be banned from certain areas of the working premises for up to twenty-four hours. _ ”

Hux took a moment to process.

“That is . . . so . . . stupid.”

“Maybe. But you wouldn’t believe how useful it is. Sometimes, when the client is especially annoying, I use it to give myself a day of peace. They’re usually pleased to have an excuse not to go into work. I’ve never had to use it in a situation quite like this one, but I’m relatively confident that the contract will hold up.”

“There is no way your ego is big enough to believe you can win a suit against me.”

Ghost leaned forward. “Try me.”

They glared. 

\---

“Pick your poison.”

“Excuse me?”

“What’ll you have?”

Hux stared up at the bartender for a long moment.

“Nothing. For now.”

The bartender shrugged and walked away. 

It was a busy night at Schwin’s Cantina & Club. Live music was playing at a reasonable volume somewhere. It was the kind of place you went if you were a man looking to relax over a cold drink, and also if you were looking to then lick that drink off another man’s chest. 

Hux sat in the very back corner of the bar, barely aware of his surroundings. 

A large man in dark clothes and an eyepatch sat at the barstool next to him, eyeing him with the non-patched eye. 

“I know your type.”

“Do you,” said Hux, evenly.

“Military. Overworked. Wants to lose control. Drink isn’t cutting it anymore. Tired of living on the edge. Wants to be pushed over.”

He took a sip of beer from his glass. 

“There’s a back room. I’ve got some friends. We’ll make you forget everything. You can pay us if it’ll make you feel better.”

Hux stared at the wall. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, finally. 

The man nodded and walked away. 

He left the glass. 

_ So this is it,  _ Hux thought vaguely.  _ Here we are.  _

Hux didn’t know what to do, while at the same time knowing exactly what he was going to do. He saw, as clearly as he could see the glass in front of him, his own descent, spiraling downwards in an exponentially increasing way that had started subtly but would absolutely not end that way. He saw this, he knew this, and the worst part was that he was going to do it anyway. 

He stared into the bar counter and wondered if this was what “rock bottom” looked like.

“You were seriously considering it, weren’t you.”

Hux smiled and closed his eyes. 

He took a moment to- he didn’t know. Pray? Offer thanks? It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, he offered it up. 

“I was beginning to think I’d scared you off.”

There was a creak, as Kylo sat down on the bar stool next to him. 

“Where would I go?”

They sat, for a moment. 

Behind his eyelids, Hux was distantly aware of the bar moving around them, of the world that existed outside of this little corner. It was all white noise. The world continued around them but in this corner, in this back corner of a bar somewhere in Decim’s red-light district, here, they were completely alone. 

“I think,” said Hux, slowly, his eyes still closed,  his head still rested against the back wall. “That I might die, right here, right now, in this bar. I feel like . . . I’m burning from the inside.”

After a moment, Kylo spoke up, softly. “That would be the fever.”

\---

Anyone awake at midnight that night would have seen General Hux not exactly being carried but definitely leaning heavily on Kylo Ren. 

Somehow, they would feel faintly relieved. 

\---

Hux woke up. 

It was a slower, much nicer waking than he’d been used to recently. It was less a sudden panic and more of a slow, warm, fade into consciousness. 

He was in his bed, in his suite. Under the blankets, which was different. 

For one terrifying moment, he thought he was alone. 

“Are you awake?”

Hux shut his eyes very tightly, feeling grateful deep in his chest for this moment. Then he rolled over and looked at Kylo, who was sitting up in bed next to him, holding a holoscreen. 

“The guild’s closed,” said Kylo, quickly. “Shut down completely. Something about your birthday? I didn’t ask. Anyway, there’s no point in getting up.”

Hux relaxed back into the sheets.  _ No point in getting up. _ Ghost had actually done it. 

“It’s not my birthday,” he said. His voice cracked. 

“Oh,” said Kylo, obviously relieved. “Good.”

“It was two months ago. When’s-”

“Month Seven, twenty-first.”

“Got it. I’ll take you out to dinner or something.”

Hux immediately regretted saying this, realizing that the idea that they would still be together next year was not a fact and actually, at this point, extremely optimistic.

“I may have been projecting,” he began.

“Hux.”   


“I’m an ass. An absolute bastard. I know.”

“It’s fine.”

“That was a statement of fact. Not an apology.”

“Oh. Sorry, go on.”

“This is an apology; Kylo, darling, dearest,” he said, pulling himself into a sitting position and overemphasizing the pet names as much as he could. “I am  _ ever _ so terribly sorry.”

“Hux, please don’t. Really, you can stop now.”

“Really, dearest, I don’t think I could go on-” And then Hux lost the will to continue with the joke by looking directly at Kylo’s face. 

It’s amazing, how one a person’s smile can make everything seem so simple. Maybe they snore, maybe they ignore you at parties, maybe they’re responsible for an infamous massacre- things that had bothered you before seem so unimportant now. And the things you had thought about yourself, the darkest parts of yourself- you feel them being actively brightened. 

You realize that you are better when this person’s around. They don’t  _ cure _ you, but in some undefinable way, you are better. 

Something something greater than the sum of its parts. 

“Really though,” Hux said, quietly. “Please stay. Just until the end of the campaign. I . . . it is helpful to me for you to be here. I can’t do this without you. Or if I can, I don’t want to.”

Kylo stared at him critically for a moment, and then set his holoscreen on the floor. He turned back to Hux and reached up, placing his hands on the sides of Hux’s face. 

Kylo could snap his neck right now, like this. Just, twist. It would be easy.  

Hux waited. 

“Okay,” said Kylo. 

And then he kissed him. 

It was, overall, a very good morning. 

\---

They didn’t bother getting out of bed. It wasn’t that kind of day. Hux wasn’t sure he had the energy, and besides he was perfectly content to lie there with Kylo pressed against his side and his arm over his chest for several hours. 

“You know,” said Hux. “Ghost told me to blow you.”

“That would have worked too.” 

There was a pause. 

“I mean, we’ve got all day. You could still-”

Hux elbowed him in the side. 

He giggled. 

It was the most beautiful noise Hux had ever heard. 

Decim was warm that day. The open windows and balcony let in faint sounds of the city. Somewhere far away, music played. 

Hux watch the curtains wave in the breeze against the background of a clear blue sky. 

“It’s funny,” he said. “I used to think _ I  _ was the one saving  _ you _ .”

Hux felt Kylo’s arm tighten around his chest. 

“You were. You are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really wrote my heart into this one. <3
> 
> And that concludes this arc! It feels great to finally get this part out. Don't worry, we've still got quite a journey ahead of us. 
> 
> Again, thanks to [Sasha](http://starfleetofficial.tumblr.com/).


	8. Chapter 8

Hux hadn’t expected a standing ovation. 

Usually his speeches were met with silent salutes, but this was something special. He’d known, from the moment he’d begun composing the first draft one late night in his office on the Finalizer. This was special. A first. No one had ever done anything quite like Hux’s proposal- no one had ever been so bold, possibly. 

And, to be fair, not  _ everyone _ was standing. Some people were sitting, and a few people looked like they were actively planning his assassination, but it was enough that the moment Hux walked off the stage and into the Guild’s green room, he dipped a very shocked Kylo Ren in a kiss. 

Which was another first, for Hux. 

“Oh,” was all Kylo managed, but he was smiling, like he was impressed that Hux had dared. 

Hux looked into Kylo’s eyes and decided he’d never felt more powerful in his life. It was intoxicating in the best way. It was the feeling of everything you’ve ever wanted becoming the most likely outcome.

He held the eye contact for a moment, hoping that Kylo was getting some of this. 

“Get a room.”

Hux let go of Kylo and turned to look at Ghost. 

“Excuse you.”

“Spare my virgin eyes. Honestly,” said Ghost, grinning. Hux could tell- he’d heard the applause, he knew what it meant. 

“You were worth it,” said Hux, suddenly. 

“I know,” said Ghost. “But just to make sure we’re on the same page, how much am I worth exactly?”

“Your personality. Your insubordination. Your contrariety.”

“You flatter me.”

“All of it. Androssi Ghost, you promised you’d win this campaign for me. I seriously, no offense, but I seriously doubted you. It pains me to say this, but I think you’re about to prove me wrong.”  

Hux didn’t really  _ do _ sincerity, and the lack of sarcasm appeared to throw Ghost off so much that he looked actually flattered. 

“We haven’t won yet. There’s still the vote.”

“We’re going to win though.” Hux put his arm around Kylo’s shoulders. It was a new thing, doing this sober. Any sort of public affection. He rather liked it. “Say it. You know it’s true, Ghost. Say it.” 

“Not until we’ve won. Not until after the vote.” 

“You’re no fun.”

“Go take your boyfriend back to your suite before you embarrass yourself. You’re strange when you’re happy.” 

\---

“Well?” asked Kylo, after some pretty good sex. 

“Well what?”

“It’s over.”

The statement reeked of Kylo’s standard obscurity, but Hux knew what he meant.

“It’s not,” said Hux, just for the sake of argument. 

“It probably is.”

Hux was too peaceful to come up with anything clever or sarcastic, so he just relaxed into the sheets and pressed his face against Kylo’s bicep. “Probably.”

Decim was hot that day. At its heart it was a desert planet, which was reflected in the flat, sandstone architecture. Luckily, it was also the sort of planet where the weather was the majority of the populace’s primary daily struggle, which is to say everyone was rich enough that they could afford to be a little overheated sometimes. 

There was no breeze through the open windows, but the fresh air and sounds of the garden made Hux, in that moment, glad for them anyway. 

He’d gotten used to this place.

Hux felt, for the first time in a long time, a faint sense of, of something. 

He would later identify this feeling as “ _ home _ .” 

“Do you hear that?” Kylo asked, turning his head toward the open balcony. 

“What?”

“Is that . . . screaming?”

Hux closed his eyes. “God, I hope so.”

\---

Over seven-hundred people showed up to protest in front of the Guild the next day. Most of them had flown in from neighboring planets. Hux was almost more proud of this than he was of the ovation. 

“Stop smiling,” said Ghost, who was holding his head in his hands like he was trying to keep his brains in, or the sound of angry chanting out. “It’s weird.”

“That’s the sound of progress.”

“That’s the sound of a large crowd of people who hate you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Ghost glared at Hux over his desk. “Sorry. I think you mistook my sense of self-preservation for interpersonal concern.”

“Oh. Excuse me.”

“You- I don’t even want to hear it. You’re the safest person in this building. Probably on this planet, or even in the galaxy.” He pulled his ponytail over his shoulder and began combing it with his fingers in a nervous, distracted way. “You’ve got this, a super, powerful, evil Lord of Darkness on a  _ leash _ , willing to lay down his life for you-”

“I wouldn’t go that far-”

“But you think when Kylo Ren’s swooping in to save your ass, he’s going to bother with the rest of us? You think he’s a “we’re all in this together” type of guy?”

“Well-”

“Did you know presence of unregistered ships in nearby space has almost doubled? You know what that means?”

“People are so excited about my campaign they’re forgetting to renew their registration?”

“Cartels, General Smart Ass. It means cartels. Gangs. Mobs.”

“I thought you’d love cartels. They seem like an integral ingredient to your lifestyle.”

“Cartels mean guns. ”

“You sound scared.”

“I wonder why,” he snapped. He took a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes. “Hux, did you ever wonder why I demanded such a large part of the building? Why my contract is fifty-six pages long? Why I have so many guards? Why my team is so large, but I don’t seem to know any of them personally? Why I don’t have any friends?”

“I’ve never wondered that.”

“Fuck off. I mean, really. I don’t believe for a second that you didn’t notice any of this. Have you ever wondered why I go to all these lengths? Why I don’t maintain any personal relationships? Why I don’t socialize with anyone? Why I’m so careful?”

“Evidently because you’re paranoid.”

“My campaigns,” said Ghost, examining one of his gold rings very closely. “Have a 91% success rate. They also have a 100% survival rate.”

There was a brief pause, that was not a silence due to the chanting outside. 

After a moment, Hux sighed. 

“Your trust in me is, frankly, abysmal. I’m a General. You think I’m going to let civilians storm my base of operations and kill a member of my staff? That would be so embarrassing. Have a little faith, Ghost.”

“I didn’t get here by relying on faith.”

“Don’t worry,” said Hux, standing up and smoothing the lapels of his jacket. “Neither did I.”

\---

Hux had always been good at debates. He was clever and quick with his words and he knew it. 

“So you admit that you lack experience?”

“I’ll admit that I started from a young age and excelled quickly and due to this was able to achieve equal if not more strategic experience than everyone in this room, as evidenced by my rank. Age is not aptitude.”

“But even so,” said Lieutenant Aghner, who was quite old and had not missed Hux’s subtle insult. “Wouldn’t you say there are other officers more qualified to develop a plan for a large-scale galactic campaign?”

“Well, no. Because none of them did. If any of these “more qualified officers” have a proposal on them, feel free to speak up.”

There was a silence. 

Someone coughed.

“If there are no more questions-”

“I have a question.”

“Admiral Ledo. Please, bestow upon us your undoubtedly brilliant question.”

Ledo frowned, like he wasn’t sure whether he was being made fun of (he was), before continuing. “I have to ask what Kylo Ren’s role will be in this proposed campaign.”

He said it smugly, like he felt as if he were delivering an unexpected trump card.

“Kylo Ren will continue to be a vital servant of the First Order. He’ll assist in battle primarily, and otherwise support the campaign in whatever way is needed.”

“But will Kylo Ren live on the Finalizer?”

“I don’t know. He’s a grown man. He’ll live wherever he wants.”

“See, but Kylo Ren has been known to-”

“This meeting is about the proposal? If you’re so extremely interested in Kylo Ren’s personal life I’ll be happy to set up a one-on-one personal interview.”

Admiral Ledo didn’t even respond- he just sat down, hard, and openly glared. 

Hux turned so that he was addressed the center of the theater. “I was born into the First Order. I have been instrumental in shaping the First Order for as long as it has existed. This proposal, this campaign- this is not about me. This is about the next step for the First Order. This campaign is not only our future, not only the future of the First Order, but the future of the galaxy. I will not allow the First Order to stagnate or fall into irrelevance. I simply won’t.”

He ended his speech with a piercing stare, making as much eye contact as possible.  

\---

After the debate, several officers in various First Order uniforms milled around the lounge, talking awkwardly or standing alone, very clearly pretending to message someone on their holoscreens. First Order regalia decorated the walls. Someone was handing out pamphlets. It looked like a bad First Order fan convention. 

Hux very deliberately power-walked in the opposite direction. 

“General!”

Hux sighed and turned to look at Thatch, who was smiling in that way that made Hux hate all smiles ever. 

“Very ambitious, suggesting that we take over the entire L-3 system in a month. Optimistic, don’t you think?”

“There are two-hundred eighteen voting-eligible officers. Forgive me if I abstain from groveling for one.”

Thatch looked surprised. “Oh, but I plan to vote for you.”

Hux was very conscious of his highborn upbringing, and the associated tendencies. He made every effort to repress them, especially in front of Thatch. But at this, he couldn’t stop himself from throwing Thatch an affected look and saying;

“Hardly.”

“Admitting this is like driving nails into my eyes, but your proposal was quite good.” Thatch gave Hux a look that he couldn’t quite place. “I was especially impressed by your long-term plans, for governing the rest of the planets. An organized currency system? Effective resource management, with a focus on the poorer planets? Surprisingly sensible, for you.”

“Always a pleasure, Thatch.”

Hux began walking down the hallway. Thatch, who was about as good at taking hints as everyone in Hux’s life was these days, caught up with him. He was shorter than Hux, so he was almost running. It reminded Hux of Drax. He immediately offered Drax a silent apology for the comparison. 

“You’ve changed, you know.” 

“A decade will do that.” 

“I’ve changed too. It was all Ilioan. I met her five years ago, and everything just fell into place, you know? All the petty things just . . . fell away. I’d, um. I picked up a spice habit while stationed on Aargonar. Long nights, long shifts, not much to do- you know how it is. One of the first times I went out with Ilioan, I- it was bad. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me. Like, pity? But also, there was- I felt so pathetic. Haven’t touched the stuff since. I swear.”

It was an oddly personal confession. Hux couldn’t even bring himself to throw out an insult. 

“And all those things that we were obsessed with when we were kids, you know, just stopped mattering. I felt like I grew up ten years when I met Ilioan. Even when I have to leave for work, it’s just . . . better, knowing I have someone to come back to. Knowing I have a  _ reason _ to come back. She really, changed me. I didn’t know people worked that way. I didn’t know things like that actually happened. But it did.”

They walked in silence for a moment. At some point Hux had slowed down. He hadn’t noticed. It was a moment before Thatch spoke up again.

“For you . . . was it him?”

Hux turned on his heel so fast the marble tiling squeaked under his boot. 

Before he could get into it, Thatch threw up his hands. 

“Sorry! Sorry . . . sir. It’s none of my business. Enjoy the rest of your night.” 

Hux watched him leave. Blankly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . . .
> 
> Hey guys so I'm still alive. I know. It's been . . . a while . . . 
> 
> This is one of those "was supposed to be a really long chapter but it got so long I split it into two chapters" situations. What was supposed to be Chapter 8 is now Chapters 8 and 9. Stay turned for 9 soon! 
> 
> I'm really happy to finally publish this Thatch scene! This was one of the first scenes I wrote (probably in February or something!) for this story and it's just been sitting in the doc, waiting to be unleashed.


	9. Chapter 9

Hux stared into the mirror.

His own cold, dead eyes, devoid of hope, full of resignation stared back at him.

“This is stupid,” he said to his reflection.

“Shut up,” said Ghost, from somewhere uncomfortably close to his right shoulder. “You’ll thank me later.”

In its defence, the outfit was clearly very well made. The (white) fabric felt soft against Hux’s skin in a way that his standard uniform didn’t. Even the weight of the- and he cringed even thinking about it, his utilitarian spirit going into conniptions-   _cape_ felt heavy enough to be expensive, but light enough that he knew it would flutter behind him dramatically, as was intended.

Hux didn’t know who’d made it, or what sort of instructions Ghost had given them, or what white dye company they’d purchased to make it happen. He hadn’t asked and Ghost hadn’t brought it up, rightly assuming that Hux didn’t care. Whoever it was must lived off-planet, since Ghost appeared to be set on doing the alterations himself.  

Staring at himself in the mirror for this long was making Hux uncomfortable. He was finding it hard to stop from self-reflecting, which was something he tended to avoid if at all possible.

“Am I the youngest person you’ve ever worked for?”

“Yes.”

“By how much?”

“A few years. Are you feeling insecure?”

“No. I’m feeling productive.”

“You would.”

“Yes, I- Christ, you’re not shy, are you?” he said, as Ghost ran his hands down the inseam of Hux’s (white) pants.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hux. I don’t want to be murdered by a jealous Kylo Ren.”

“Warn me next time.”

“You act like you’ve never been fitted before.”

“I haven’t.”

“Sure. I’ve seen those boots you wear. Tell me you bought those off the rack. Go on.”

“Those are just boots. And since when did you become a tailor?”

“I’m not. I just have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.”

“Fittings? Clothing?”

“Yes.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“That’s classified.”

“That’s not true.”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s hilarious, coming from you.”

“Fuck off, Hux.”

“Gladly. Free me from this hell.”

“No.”

Hux was bitter, he’d admit it. It wasn’t that the outfit looked _bad_ , or even that it was startlingly, blinding white. It was more the principle of the thing.

Ghost had explained it earlier. Hux needed to appeal to the populace. He needed to not look like an evil dictator. He needed to look like someone who was going to change the galaxy for good.

He needed to not wear a brutal black military uniform to all public appearances.

Hux had agreed, resentfully. But that wasn’t going to stop him from being especially snide while wearing it, as if to make up for its benevolent appearance.

“How much longer are you going to stick me with pins?”

“Okay but be honest; have I pierced your skin with a pin? Have I? Even once?”

“No,” Hux admitted. “ . . . But the metal is cold.”

“Oh, is it? I’m so sorry. I’ll use a blowtorch next time.”

“This is terribly archaic.”

“Next time you can wear a robotic suit and we’ll have a droid measure you and meld it straight to your skin and then you’ll never have to interact with a human being ever again.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

The insults dropped off as Ghost knelt in front of Hux to adjust the clasps of the belt.

They made awkward eye contact.

Hux couldn’t resist.

“Muscle memory kicking in?”

 _“Oh my god,”_ Ghost said, actually stopping to close his eyes and cover his mouth with both hands, as if he were so offended he needed to take a moment to pray. Hux could tell he was hiding a smile.

\---

“Hey,” said Ghost, after they’d finished the fitting but before Hux had taken the outfit off yet.

“What?” asked Hux, who was tugging at the lining of his sleeves.

“Don’t take it off yet.”

“Why not?”

“I called in an expert.”

“Please no.”

“Turn around.”

Hux did.

Kylo stood in the doorway.

Hux had never felt more like a blushing bride in his entire life.

It was the way Kylo was staring at him; a little shocked, a little awed, a little like he’d just been presented with a lightsaber and a condemned building and told to go to town.

A little like he’d just seen his wife for the first time on their wedding day and, even though he’d been readying himself, was still caught off-guard by how his heart swelled.

And suddenly Hux was very conscious of the scene: himself, standing in front of a mirror, slightly turned so that he was facing the door but the train of his cape pooled around his feet, in this ridiculously white outfit, ginger hair, and his hands- suddenly he didn’t know what to do with them, tapping them awkwardly against his legs.

“What do you think?” he asked, finally, when it was clear that Kylo, if uninterrupted, would stand there staring for the rest of his life.

“I like it.”

“Even though it’s really, obscenely white?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” said Hux, realizing that based on Kylo’s reaction alone, he was going to wear this whenever it was requested of him.

Which was probably what Ghost had intended, but whatever. He played the game well.

It all felt very real, in that moment. Hux got a sort of meta view of the situation; his bordering on royal outfit, his palace, his Kylo-

It all felt very real.

\---

They ended the day with some anti-climactic tax forms.

“Is that all?” Hux asked, pushing a stack of forms labeled “elevators and escalaters; vol 2” across the desk, as one would a strange and unsightly bug.

Ghost looked down at his datapad.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about fundraising.”

The way he said it made Hux suspicious.

“What sort of fundraising?”

\---

“A ball!”

“That’s right, Mir’quanda,” said news anchor Chuck Chaser. “A ball. A fundraising ball, thrown by controversial political figure General Hux.”

“Are you going to the ball, Chuck?”

He laughed. “Why, if only I could get my hands on an invitation! Unless you’re lucky enough to be a First Order voting member or an invited guest, tickets are selling for upwards of twenty-thousand credits!”

“Wow, Chuck! That’s going to be some ball!”

“It sure is, Mir’quanda. Taking place at the Executive Guild, the General’s base of operations for his now-famous proposal and hopeful campaign, the ball promises to be a night of extravagance and hard-hitters.”

“That’s very true, Chuck. And you know what you need if you’re going to the ball? A sweet ride.”

“That’s right, Mir’quanda. But if you don’t have one, fear not. Tarlaac’s Auto-Lot is having a fifty-percent off sale this weekend! Upgrade your cruiser and arrive at the ball in style!”

“The General sure lives a life of luxury, Chuck.”

“He sure does, Mir’quanda. Speaking of the General’s private life, do we have any updates for our Hot Gossip Wall?”

The camera panned to show a holographic board of celebrity candids, with bright neon borders and flashing taglines such as _“So Spicy!”_ and _“Oh No They Didn’t!”_

“Do we ever, Chuck. We received this picture from our sources. It appears to show an inebriated General Hux being almost _carried_ back to the Guild by his bodyguard and alleged lover, Kylo Ren.”

“It’s been confirmed that Kylo Ren and General Hux do live together- however, it has yet to be confirmed whether this is for security reasons or more scandalous ones.”

“Well, all I’ll say is this, Mir’quanda. They look pretty cosy in the picture.”

“You may recall rumors circulating recently that the pair had broken up. There were even rumors of a cheating scandal. Sources said that Kylo Ren left the General after he was unfaithful.”

“Cheating on Kylo Ren? You’d have to be very brave to do that. That guy is the definition of dark and mysterious. Sources say he rarely leaves the General’s suite, except to train or, you know- slurp someone’s brain out.”

“Ah yes, Mir’quanda. Who could forget about Brain-gate?”

“The infamous Brain-pocalypse.”

A heavily censored image of said de-braining appeared on the screen.

“If you haven’t picked one up yet, Greeba’s Souvineers is selling this image on shirts, postcards, and mugs! Buy one get one free, this week only!”

Chuck laughed. “Don’t get on that guy’s bad side! Anyway, if a break happened at all it appears they’ve smoothed things over. The pair- excuse me, the _alleged_ pair is clearly back together.

Mir’quanda nodded. “The real question is, will the elusive Kylo Ren be by General Hux’s side at the ball?”

\---

SOMEWHERE ON JAKKU

\---

A Crolute and a Cragmoloid sat on a dusty porch made out of a repurposed TIE-fighter wing. They were staring at a holoscreen set on top of a barrel, drinking grog out of tin cups.

“Disgustin’,” said the Cragmoloid. “Absolutely disgustin’.”

“Yeah,” said the Crolute. “Them gays.”

“Them gays? Marvin, I don’t give a tauntaun’s ass if they’re gays. That man is going to ruin our economy. His fiscal policies are, to put it lightly, ruinous for us outlying planets. It will have drastic effects on the galaxy’s tax system, as well as spur uncertain valuation of currency- possibly hyperinflation. It’ll allow the First Order to have economic as well as political dominance, thereby giving them a practical monopoly on galactic power!”

“Hyperinflation? Well, shoot. Them gays are clever.”

“And what’s worse, we don’t get any say in this! It’s only those rich First Order people who get to decide our future. It ain’t fair! Did anybody ask _us_ whether we wanted to be conquered by the First Order or not? Nope! I ran some numbers in my head, and if you live on one of the 152 planets to be conquered in the First Order’s campaign, devaluation of your currency is as likely as eighty-five-”

“Oh shoot, Bobby-Ray. The snarlaac’s are charging again.”

“Again? Shoot. Must be those bloggins, sneaking in through the fence. We really gotta patch that hole up. Welp, I’ll get my blaster. See if you can calm them down before one of them gets bit.”

\---

Hux hadn’t been on the Finalizer in months.

He was finding it more distracting than expected.

“The Finalizer is a Resurgent-class Star Destroyer,” he said, leading a group of First Order VIPs down the hallway. “It features a fully-operational hyperdrive system and over 1,500 turbolasers and ion cannons. All of this is powered by a single III-a1a primary hypermatter-annihilation reactor.”

The passed the door to Kylo’s room. Hux felt a compulsion to go in, although he didn’t.

“And this is the bridge,” he said, proudly, because the bridge and control room were definitely things to be proud of.

“Excuse me,” asked one of the visitors. “Am I correct in noting that many of these upgrades are not standard on most Star Destroyers?”

“You are. Over the past year I’ve been implementing new technology. The Finalizer is currently, by far, the most advanced ship in First Order control, and probably the galaxy. Absolutely one of a kind.”

The view from the bridge was familiar. Hux felt nostalgic. Everything had happened on this ship, and most of it in this room.

The guests milled around the room curiously. Some ventured down the stairs and started conversations with the technicians. They were mostly a non-military bunch.

It had all been Ghost’s suggestion, of course. Seeing the inside of the First Order’s most impressive ship in addition to some one-on-one time with Hux would increase their chances of voting positively on the proposal, apparently. Hux hadn’t contested the idea, much. Ghost was, unfortunately, usually right about these sort of things.

“Will this be the ship that you run the campaign from? Once it’s approved?”

“Yes, primarily.”

“Living on a ship- doesn’t it get, no offense, but do you ever get tired of it?”

Hux looked out over the bridge.

He got that feeling again. The odd one.

“You get used to it.”

\---

“Ghost is making me go to his ball. Says I owe him.”

Hux and Kylo were having dinner on the balcony. They didn’t do this, usually, but Hux’s schedule had been lightening up lately.

“Do you?”

“Probably. He says that we need monetary support behind the campaign, which means we’ve got to pander to a bunch of rich, drunk idiots until they pay us. Personally, I think he just wants an excuse to throw a fancy party. It’s going to be absolutely miserable.”

“It sounds horrific.”

“I’m almost embarrassed that I’ll have to make an appearance.”

“I would be too.”

“I’m a _General_ . I’m in the military. I don’t _do_ parties.”

“Always hated them. These political parties, I mean- not Generals. Show of power and money and no substance.”

“Exactly.”

“And terrible fake small-talk.”

“I don’t mean to exaggerate, Kylo, but this might actually be the worst thing ever.”

It was a warm evening on Decim, the kind that lured all the small brush animals and insects into activity and tricked you into forgetting that this was a desert planet.

“You wouldn’t be offended if I didn’t take you, would you?”

“Why would I be offended?” asked Kylo Ren offendedly.

“It’s just, you know. Apart from the obvious, I think I’d actually rather take a bullet than deal with Ghost’s tantrum if you killed somebody again.”

“Please. I wouldn’t go if you asked.”

“Good. Because I’m not.”

“Great.”

They sat.

Kylo hadn’t cut his hair. He wore it back now, most of the time. It suited him, but Hux wondered why he didn’t just cut it. He wondered a lot of things about Kylo Ren.

“What have you been doing?”

“Thinking. Training.”

“Any word from Snoke?”

Hux regretted asking immediately. It alluded to the idea that this was temporary, and that Kylo Ren could be called away at any moment.

“Yes,” said Kylo, after a long silence, and Hux felt himself tense up until Kylo continued. “I’m . . . staying here.”

“Against his orders?”

“No.”

 _“Would you stay against his orders?”_ was the question that Hux thought but didn’t say. He half expected Kylo to answer anyway.

“You don’t invade peoples’ heads as much as you used to.”

“I suppose not. My relationship with the Force has . . . changed. Improved. My control is much stronger.”

“What’s it like?”

“I’ll show you sometime.”

“Not now?”

“No, not now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see i told u guys it would be up soon I TOLD YOU 
> 
> also I just wanna say, the next chapter is the ball chapter.  
> BALL CHAPTER
> 
> (call me out if there r editing errors, im on vacation rn and posting from here is a bitch)


	10. Chapter 10

 

“It _did_ rain yesterday . . .”

“Very true.”

“I agree.”

“Freezing, sir.”

“ . . . but overall I’d say it’s been fairly warm this week.”

“Definitely.”

“Very warm, sir.”

“Of course.”

“Sir, your powers of observation are, as usual, sublime,” said Officer Dunlap, and Hux truly, genuinely, could not tell if he was being sarcastic.

“ . . . Thank you,” Hux said.

There was a beat.

The people around him burst into laughter, but not in the “caught off guard by Hux’s wit” way, which he would have been okay with- more in the “pander to the future emperor” way.

Hux, for lack of a better response, laughed with them.

The ballroom, having been cleared of Ghost’s staff and equipment, was in full effect. Chandeliers were lit, white floors were polished; it was impressive in the way that all ballrooms were, if you’re into overspending, which Hux was not.

Put it this way- it was as decadent as Ghost’s bedroom, but cleaner and with fewer dildos.

“Next week I’m headed north,” announced Trisken, the Queen of Mandalore. She was dressed in in something tight and red. “To the beaches. I’m renting a resort. I thought, if I’m going all the way to Decim why not make a trip out of it? If you ever have a break in your schedule, General, you’re welcome to visit.” She said it with a blatant insinuation that Hux could respect, if not reciprocate.

“Although a beach resort sounds eons more enjoyable than my job, I unfortunately am very firmly stuck here for the foreseeable future.”

She shrugged. “Fair. If you change your mind, though.”

“I’ll let you know.”

Hux scanned the ballroom from the circle of admirers within which he was trapped. The room was filled with celebrities and wealthy people and First Order voting members having a grand time and drinking a whole lot. People would glance over occasionally, like they were waiting for this batch of conversationalists to leave so that they could take their places in Hux’s inner circle.

And then, like the song of a robin heralding the coming of spring--

“General! Excuse me. General Hux!”

The crowd parted for Hux as he walked forward, cape trailing behind him, smiling genuinely for the first time that night.

“Commander,” he said, saluting.

Drax beamed.

She was dressed in a formal version of her commander’s uniform, with all requisite ribbons and medals, and was holding a glass of something green and bubbly. Her hair was down and beginning to get a bit frizzy from the humidity.

“You look great,” Hux said.

“Me? No, look at- what is this? Who made this?” She gestured excitedly at Hux’s outfit. “You look like . . . a _king_.”

“Thank you. I feel like one, actually.”

“Kylo’s not with you?” she asked, with a blatancy that signified this was not her first drink.

“No. Not his thing. Not my thing either, but, you know. Duty calls.”

“Shame. You two would make a good, you know. King and, and other king of the ball.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fantastic. I assume this is all Ghost’s doing?”

“Yes. He’s around. I haven’t seen him. I’ve been socializing.”

“Hah,” she said, smiling. “I bet you want to die right now.”

“It’s actually not as bad as I expected.”

“Oh, do you like this? Wait I get it, this sort of, whole, whole, ‘Look at General Hux in his pretty white outfit! He’s so smart and funny and attractive! Let’s shower him with affection!”

“It’s not bad,” he repeated, a little smugly.

“Hux, your people want you. Go be,” she waved. “Showered. I have to go, I need more, the thing. This thing. Whatever it is. It’s great.”

She turned and walked back towards the drinks table.

\---

“Have you talked to him?”

“Yes. Well, no. I said hello.”

“And?”

“And he said hello back. What do you expect? The man can’t take two white patent leather steps without being mobbed.”

“Hmmm,” said one of them, eyeing the crowd from behind the small champagne table on which he leaned. “Ren?”

“No,” said the other

“This is hardly his scene. I’m sure he’s here. Lurking, somewhere.”

The officer waited, uncomfortably.

“Anyone of interest?” he asked, at last.

“President Bliss. Queen of Mandalore. Prime Ministers of Boyud’u, Dfall, a few others. Celebrities, inconsequential. Singers, actors, you know the like.”

“Hmmm.” He pondered this with a long, dramatic sip of champagne.

“And Androssi Ghost,” added the officer, after a moment. “The campaign manager, have you seen him?”

“No.”

“He’s very- well, you should.”

“ . . . Hmmm.”

\----

“General Hux,” said a voice that Hux hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Eddard,” Hux said, shaking the hand of the older man who’d approached him. “Good to see you. How’s retirement treating you?”

“To be perfectly blunt, some days I wish I had died in battle.”

“So, very well then.”

“But other days, I sit on my plush deck chair that overlooks the river and drink wine, and I think- it could be worse.”

“Yes. You could be me.”

“Oh, that wit. I remember that about you. So odd, really. You didn’t get it from your father, I can tell you.”

“Hmmm,” said Hux, in that polite tone you use when the conversation is headed in a direction that you do not like.

“Imagine if he could see you know,” said Eddard.

And Hux did. He looked over at the crowd of people who were here to support him, at the ballroom, at the situation he was in, about to become the most powerful man in the First Order, in the _universe_ , and he thought about his father seeing him now, and more impressively he thought about resisting the urge to crunch his glass in his hand.  

“He always expected great things of you, you know.”

“Demanded,” Hux said, before he could stop himself. “I think you mean ‘demanded.”

“Well, you can hardly complain. Look at you now. You’re practically a king.”

The last bit stuck with him.

The thing about Hux, the thing most people didn’t pick up on, is that his life had always been about power- not having, having, wanting more.  

_Practically a king._

The words held a divinity that hit Hux deep in his soul.

He wanted to drink them.

\---

“Go up to him.”

“No!” Aisha, assistant to the accounting division, exclaimed in horror, as if he’d just asked her to hand-feed their pet sarlaac.

“He’s right there,” said Zandaray the security guard, who knew Aisha well enough to know that she'd been dying to talk to Hux from the moment they got there. “Just say “hi.”

“No! You do it!”

“Why would I want to talk to him? _You’re_ the one with the crush.”

“I mean, look at- at that! He’s so! I can’t!”

Across the ballroom, Hux, in his white suit, appeared to be consoling a young disorderly woman while a crowd of onlookers complimented his chivalry and also his hair and maybe also his bank account.

“Aisha. If you don’t, you’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.”

She took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

She took a step toward Hux.

Zandaray grabbed her by the shoulder. “Wait!”

She turned around. “Wait? Go, don’t go, I’m having a crisis here!”

He pointed. “Is that . . .?”

Aisha looked, and then froze. “Oh my god.”

\---

“Excuse me.”

Kylo looked up.

An older woman with traditional Brokavian face markings was looking at him.

“Would I be correct in thinking that you are Kylo Ren?” She spoke slowly and precisely, like she was putting a lot of thought into each word.

“Yes.”

“I thought so. You know, all these people are wearing their diamonds and jewels and gold, traipsing across the room, hoping to be noticed. But I find that the most interesting people, the people most worthy of attention, are the people who are least seeking it. Like you, young man- standing along the wall, dressed in black- a person like that is almost always worth talking to, if you can get them to speak, that is. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ren,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Just Ren,” said Kylo, taking it.

“Just Ren? Very modest. I am just Hyun-Jun, then. I’m a diplomat from-”

“Brokavia. I know.”

“Oh, you’re familiar with my planet. Have you visited?”

“No. I recognized the markings.”

“Worldly, aren’t you? I imagine you have to be in your line of work.”

“I suppose.”

“So how do you feel about this campaign? From your perspective, I mean.”

Kylo stared. “Well.”

\---

The tiled floor of the Upper West Hallway’s ladies’ bathroom was very clean, which was good for hygiene reasons and also because Hux was sitting directly on it in his white suit.

Drax was hunched over a toilet. Sobbing.  

Hux was holding her hair.

Both of them had the security clearance to lock the bathroom from the inside, but Hux had taken Drax’s I.D. from her pocket and used hers. He didn’t want to have to explain to a security team why he was locking himself in the ladies room.

Drax sat back, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.

“Hux, I love you.”

“Oh.”

“But not in a strange way. Like . . .  I just love you.”

“I love you too, not in a strange way.”

“I just love you sooOOOoooo much. Everything thinks you’re a bastard but you’re actually quite sweet. I just, I love you.”

She started sobbing again.

“Thank you.”

“And I love Kylo. I mean, Kylo doesn’t really talk to me but he makes you happy and that’s just- I love it. Not as much as you do.”

Hux stared at the bathroom wall.

“What do you think, Drax? Kylo and I. Do you think it’s pointless?”

“No! Hux, you’re in love. You know that.”

“Mmmmm.”

“I’m so drunk. Hux, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“But no, say it again. The thing. The thing you meant.”

“Nevermind.”

“No, you were talking about Kylo. You _never_ do that. Keep talking. Please.”

“Do you think,” Hux tried to clarify, but wasn’t actually sure what he was trying to say. “What do you think?”

“He is so, deeply, absolutely- it’s _so_ obvious. He never leaves your side. I love you. Hux. I love you.”

“Drink some water.”

“Toilet water? Hux, that’s disgusting. I love you but that’s disgusting.”

“No. Here.” He handed her his glass.

Drax examined it unsteadily for a moment. “This is water?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not drinking tonight?”

“No. Shockingly, I decided against it.”

“I’m so proud of you Hux. I love you.”

“Thanks.”

“And I’m sure Kylo is too. I’m sure he loves you so much he’s just terrified to tell you because he’s never loved anybody before. He’s so dark and broody and angry. I love him. Tell him I love him.”

“I will.”

“I think I need to lie down.”

“I agree.”

She started to slump down, flat on the bathroom tiles.

“No, no. Honey, no. Sit up.” Hux lifted her by her shoulders and propped her back up against the wall. “I’ll get someone to take you to your room. Just wait here, okay?

“Okay. I love you, Hux. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

\---

The hallway outside the ladies room was empty. For about two seconds.

“Hux! I’ve been looking for you!”

Hux stared.

“Sure, just leave the ball. Thrown in your honor. Meant to fund your campaign. Go ahead. No one will miss you.”

Hux stared.

“It’s not like I’ve put _weeks_ into planning this night, let alone the time we’ve spent on this campaign. No. Nothing like that. Even you, even _you_ should be able to suffer through it for an hour or so. It’s not like it’s _torture_.”

Hux stared.

“ . . . What?” Ghost demanded, looking away in that way people do when they know they’re being stared at. He was actually beginning to blush.

It was a long, silky, tulle, lilac dress. It was very flowy, but less like a river and more like a faucet. Basically, Ghost wasn’t shy.

Other notable details: heels, hair pulled back, what looked like real diamond earrings, and long, silky, sleeves unattached to the dress, which one would assume were ornamental if they didn’t know about the tattoos that were under them.

“Androssi Ghost,” said Hux, finally. “You’re the prettiest girl at the ball.”

“Thanks,” he said, a little ruefully, like he had really expected to be. “But unfortunately, that award goes to your boyfriend.”

It took Hux a moment.

“He’s-”

“Yes.”

“I should go,” Hux said, already walking past Ghost towards the ballroom. “Oh, also- take Drax back to her room, would you? She’s absolutely trashed. Ladies room.”

Hux was walking too quickly and worrying too much about what he’d find in the ballroom to hear Ghost’s protests. All he caught was, _“-in these shoes?”_

\---

“But don’t you think the Resistance is overstating its presence in the Outer Rim?”

“Yes, but I also think there’s not much to gain by chasing them out. As long as the First Order has majority stake on the galaxy, there’s nothing they can do about it.”

“In the old days it mattered. In the wars of the Empire.”

“The old days are gone. This is not the Empire.”

“That’s true, but I- oh, excuse me. This is Prime Minister Golliette, of Targan. Prime Minister, Kylo Ren. We were just discussing the cascading economic effect First Order domination will have on outer planets.”

Hux watched from a distance, blending in with the crowd as well as you can when you’re wearing a stark white suit with a cape at your own ball.

It was definitely Kylo. He’d lost the cowl and thank the stars hadn’t dug up another atrocity of a helmet, but he was otherwise wearing a minutely more formal version of his standard outfit. He stood against the wall, holding a glass of champagne which Hux _knows_ someone must have given him because there was no way he went to the bar and ordered it himself.

He was surrounded by what looked like an older, dignified, more scholarly crowd- a woman with grey hair in a wheelchair, a man with glasses whose suit was obviously at least two sizes too big, someone who’d actually pulled their datapad out and was running some numbers, etc.

It was an even discussion, the kind that has an invisible talking-stick. They weren’t all staring at or pandering to Kylo, which Hux knew was the only reason he was still there.

 _Some_ people were staring- but from a safe distance (like Hux), as if they could sense that this quiet, contemplative conversation was a safe haven from the frivolity of the ball, and also maybe that Kylo Ren didn’t do well in crowds unless he was slicing his way through one.

Hux watched for as long as he could. After the twelfth time someone tried to start a conversation with him/block the view, he gave up.

\---

It was a cool night on Decim. Outside on the balcony, Hux’s cape waved dramatically in the wind as he stared out over the city.

After a moment, he grabbed it, bunched it up in his hands, and tucked the end under his belt.  

Hux heard the door open and close.

He stood for a moment, staring out the balcony.

“I’m actually impressed,” he said. “I hate to admit it, but I am.”

“What?” asked Kylo, from beside him.

“Political talk.”

“I’m capable of basic conversation.”

“There was nothing basic about that conversation.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know.”

The sounds of the ball echoed behind them.

“Make any speeches?” Kylo asked

“No.”

“Any mind-numbing small talk?”

“Only a little.”

“Kiss any horrible, annoying babies?”

“Just one.”

Hux leaned up, put his hand in Kylo’s stupidly long hair, and kissed his neck. He’d meant it as a joke, but all of a sudden it wasn’t a joke and he kissed him again, slowly, on the underside of his jaw.

Kylo’s breathing became suspiciously, forcefully even. He didn’t move, not even to look at Hux. He seemed to be staring at some point on the horizon, afraid that the world would break if he looked away.  

“Why are you so nervous?” Hux asked, softly, into his neck. “You don’t have to be. I don’t- I don’t know. We’re fine here. We’re fine.”

“We are?”

Hux wrapped his arms around Kylo’s chest and closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

The city glittered below them.

If pressed, neither would admit that they were dancing. But they _were_ leaning into each other, swaying slowly to the muted music from inside. Kylo put his head against Hux’s, and Hux leaned into him and thought about how familiar this was and how used to being this close to Kylo he’d gotten, to the point where he recognized his _smell_ \- it almost horrified him to admit it but it was true, Kylo smelled earthy and oddly minty all the time, maybe it was the conditioner he used on his ridiculous hair, but whatever it was it stuck to Hux’s bed sheets and shower and sometimes his clothes, and he liked it, he liked it very much, and oh good lord did Hux pray harder than he had ever prayed for anything in his entire life that Kylo wasn’t reading his mind right now.

It was a moment.

“-AND THEN HE SPILLED THE CHAMPAGNE-”

They pulled away from each other quickly as a drunk young couple, a man and a woman, stumbled onto the balcony.

“-ALL OVER- oh, hello.”

The loud young man gave them a once-over.

“Sorry. Guess this balcony’s taken, then.”

“Yep,” said Kylo.

“Know if there are any other good balconies nearby?”

“Other side of the ballroom,” said Hux.

“Oh, okay. Thanks. We’ll go there. Hey, aren’t you General Hux?”

“ . . . I am.”

“Oh, congratulations! The man of the night! I didn’t recognize you in the dark. You’re doing great things, General sir. Great things.”

“Thanks.”

“And that’s- oh honey look, it’s Kylo Ren!”

“Oh my, it is!”

“Hi,” said Kylo.

“I didn’t know you two were a couple! That’s so cool! Honey, isn’t that cool?”

“It is, Albert.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Err. Work.”

“Oh, okay. Makes sense. Yeah. Love in the middle of a firefight, huh?”

There was a silence, which the drunk couple did not seem to notice.

“You guys are like, the ultimate power couple!”

“I guess.”

“Is this, like, an official thing?” asked the woman. “Like put a ring on it official? Or is this more of a, we-don’t-talk-about-it sexual tension sort of situation?”

Hux and Kylo looked at each other.

“Somewhere in the middle,” said Kylo, at the same time Hux said, “I really couldn’t say.”

“Man, that’s great. I am so happy for you two.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll leave you alone now. Let you get back to-” The man made motions with his hands that didn’t seem to represent anything specific but were somehow still uncomfortably suggestive. “Whatever it was that you were doing. Wow, the view sure is romantic here!”

“Yes.”

“You guys picked a good balcony! Okay, we’ll go now. Come on, honey.”

“Nice to meet you two. Have a lovely evening!” said the woman.

“Thanks.”

“Have fun! But not too much fun. Stay safe!”

“We will.”

“I mean, haha. I’m sure you’ll be safe. Since you’re like, a Sith lord.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, bye now!”

The door shut behind them.

Hux took a calming breath.

Beside him, Kylo leaned on the railing and looked up at the sky. He was smiling.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

 

\---

They ran directly into Ghost upon re-entering the ballroom.

“Where’s Drax?” Hux asked, at the same time as Ghost said, “I can’t believe you.”

“Believe away. Where’s Drax?” Hux repeated.

“In my suite.”

“Your suite? Why didn’t you take her back to her own-”

“Because I don’t know where it is! And neither does she! And _someone_ should go make sure she doesn’t die or throw up on my silk comforter because either way I’m sending the bill to _you.”_

“You just left her there? Alone? Ghost, you-”

“ _Someone’s_ got to run this thing! Send someone else, Hux. Send someone besides me. Anyone. Phasma. Bliss.”

He looked a little bit frantic.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t just-”

“Hux. Ren,” he said, in the tone that was the verbal equivalent of a facepalm. “I know you hate this. I know you’d rather be on some dreadful ship in the middle of space somewhere, free from all social obligations. But will you please, _please_ , take pity on me and just let this night go smoothly.”

“Relax,” said Hux. “We were just on our way out.”

Hux put his arm around Ghost’s shoulders and lead him in the opposite direction. Ghost put up no physical protest but made up for it with verbal ones.

“ _Out?_ Oh, is that all? Your own ball? _You’re going-”_

“Ghost, this is Trisken, Queen of Mandalore. Your majesty, Androssi Ghost. Princess of the ball.”

Trisken looked him up and down, very deliberately and then took his hand and kissed it. “Hello.”

“Hi,” said Ghost, staring into her eyes sort of pathetically.

“Anyway,” said Hux, already walking away and pulling Kylo by the hand.

\---

Ghost’s bedroom was an atmospherically lit mess. It was a rich people mess though, which made it sort of an aesthetic- an “Oh honey, I spilled the pearls all over the fine silk shawls again!” type of mess. Translucent scarves hung from the ceiling and the tops of the four-poster bed, creating a sort of canopy, and Hux couldn’t tell if they were decorative or if that was just where Ghost put his scarves.

Things were shoved along the walls, but not the sort of things normal people have shoved along their bedroom walls, like an empty pressure cooker box or a plastic bag filled with smaller plastic bags.

Ghost’s room had things like jewelry boxes encrusted with rubies and antique china and, as if he’d just given up on originality, a wooden chest filled with actual gold coins.

Drax was lying on the (unmade) bed, partially wrapped in a red silk comforter that was slowly spilling onto the floor.

She was asleep. Hux considered taking her coat off but decided against it, knowing that she was easily startled and had combat training.

“Why does he need these?”

Hux turned around. Kylo was holding a set of silver combs, attached to each other by a delicate chain.

“Is he going to comb his hair with five combs at the same time? Oh no.”

“What?”

“He has the same set in gold, too. Ten. _Ten combs_.”

“Are we just going through his things now, with no regard to personal privacy? Is that what’s happening?”

They looked at each other.

It was.

\---

“By the way,” said Hux, as he sifted through a pile of jewelry that he’d dumped on the floor. “Drax says she loves you.”

“ . . . Oh?” said Kylo from the other side of the room, where he was skimming through Ghost’s closet.

“She was drunk. I promised I’d tell you for her.”

“That’s nice, I guess. Look at this.”

Hux turned. Kylo was holding a sheer white dress with golden embellishments.

“This one reminds me of you,” Kylo said, almost shyly.

“It’s very grandiose.”

Hux scooped the jewelry back into its box, set it on top of the decorative vase where he’d found it, and turned around just as Kylo pulled out a box from under the bed.

“Wait,” said Hux.

Kylo looked over his shoulder, hands on the clasps of the box. “What?”

“Maybe not that one.”

“You think it’s weaponized?”

“ . . . No.”

“Money?”

Hux stared at the ceiling. “Probably not.”

Kylo looked at Hux, and then looked back at the box, and then slid it back under the bed with his foot.

Hux noticed Kylo was still holding the sheer dress- the one he’d pointed out earlier.

“What, do you want to try it on?” Hux asked. Jokingly, not at the concept but because there was no way Kylo could fit into it.

Kylo gave him a look.

\---

Hux thought back to very recently, where he’d more or less worn the same outfit every day for his entire life.

He marveled at the twists life can take, as he stared at himself in the mirror, wearing what was essentially a glittery golden robe.

Kylo stood beside him, smiling. “It looks good.”

“You say that about everything I try on.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Oh, stop.”

“You found my closet.”

They turned. Ghost walked in barefoot, holding his heels in one hand.

Hux was expecting an outburst, but Ghost just glanced at him briefly before going to put his shoes away.

“It looks better on you. Keep it.”

“Where would I wear it?”

“That’s not really the point. Also, hold on.”

Ghost slid open the main drawer of the vanity and pulled out a very delicate golden crown.

“This belonged to the king of Jaegu. He wore it up until the day he was murdered by his wife, who was then, in turn, murdered by pirates.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Don’t worry about it. May I?”

At Hux’s nod of approval, Ghost slid the crown onto his head, pushed it in place, and stepped back.

They all looked at Hux in the mirror.

There was really only one thing to say.

“Long live the king,” said Kylo, simply.

Hux was smiling. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t even a nice smile- it was the sort of smile he smiled when Starkiller had been completed.

He was going to take over the galaxy. He was going to make people bow.

“So,” began Ghost, after a moment. “The ball is over. Were you guys going anywhere, like an afterparty or . . .”

\---

They sat on the floor, smoking something out of a glass pipe with flecks of gold inside it.

Hux and Kylo sat with their backs against the bed. Kylo had his arm around Hux’s shoulder and his head back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Hux was still wearing the dress and the crown, and had his head on Kylo’s shoulder.

Ghost was sitting across from them, against a large mirror. He’d put his hair down and taken off the jewelry and pulled his sleeves off, revealing the tattoos.

“What do those mean?”

“Hmm?” asked Ghost, holding the pipe in his palm as one would a wine glass.

“Your tattoos.”

Ghost shrugged. “They mean I used to be stupid.” He paused, to take a hit and blow out smoke. “Fucking reckless.”

“Unlike now, as you’re so straight-edge.”

“Shut up, Hux. You can’t judge me. You’re both high too.”

Hux shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.

At that moment, Drax exhaled loudly from the bed. They watched as she stretched, rolled over, and opened her eyes.

“Ghost,” she said.

“Hi.”

“You asshole.”

“Good to see you too, Drax.”

“Is this hell?”

“No. This is my bedroom.”

“Worse.”

“Fuck off.”

She turned, stiffly.

“Hux. Kylo.”

“Do you feel better?” asked Hux.

“Yes. There are hammers behind my eyes. But other than that. Good. Sorry about. Everything.”

Hux shrugged. “It’s fine. Gave me an excuse to leave.”

“I helped you get here,” pointed out Ghost. “In heels. Alone.”

“ . . . Thank you too, then.”

“Oh, it was nothing. Also-” He held out the pipe to her. “For the hammers.”

She stared. “Hux. Should I . . .”

“Honestly, I would. Man knows his drugs.”

“You're all bad influences,” she announced, as she took it.

\---

It was past midnight. The guests had cleared out of the Guild, the staff had cleaned as much as they could be bothered to, and everyone was overall preparing for some really amazing hangovers tomorrow.

Hux had gotten cold, so he’d pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around his and Kylo’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure if Kylo felt things like temperature or if his body was trained to withstand extreme amounts of pain, but he knew that he sure did and he liked the feel of Kylo’s body next to his.

Kylo seemed peaceful. It was partially the drugs, but Hux knew that Kylo was actually incapable of relaxing around most people, so it was partially something else, too. Friendship was maybe too strong of a word, but there was at least an amicable agreement of coexistence between him and the others. 

Ghost had reached behind him and tugged a dress off its hanger, and was currently using it as a blanket.

Drax was sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking much better and very high. 

“So what happened with the Queen of Mandalore?” Hux asked.

“Nothing."

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well . . . then, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You could tell me the truth?”

“Some things are better left unshared.”

“Please tell us.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“We do. Kylo, don’t you want to know?”

Kylo took the pipe out of his mouth to answer. “Yes.”

“It’s-” Ghost smiled and put his hands behind his head. “You’re going to regret asking.”

“I guarantee I will not.”

Ghost stood up, reached under his dress, and very delicately stepped out of a pair of cream-colored underwear with tiny matching ribbons meeting in a bow at the top.

“I mean,” said Hux, after a surprised but not that surprised moment. “We don’t need a demonstration.”

Ghost sighed. “ . . . I wasn’t wearing these when I- these aren’t . . . weren’t . . .mine.”

_“Ah.”_

Ghost sat back down and threw the underwear across the room, where it hit the wall and landed in a pile of equally decadent clothes.

They sat quietly for a moment.

“So it went well then.”

“It did.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” said Drax. “Someone pass me the thing.”

“Pretend away. What about you two?” Ghost asked, gesturing to Hux and Kylo.

“What about us?”

“I don’t know. You guys just had your first public appearance as a couple. Got anything weird planned for tonight?”

“We didn’t have a public appearance,” said Kylo, ignoring the second part of his question.

“It’s all people were talking about at the ball.”

Hux thought about how he was now going to have to deal with the consequences of this, and decided within the same second, with absolute certainty, that it was worth it. The heat against his right side, the hair falling over his shoulder, the rough texture of the fabric of Kylo's pants against his bare legs- worth it. A thousand times over. He thought it extra loudly. 

_You're worth it._

“Did we raise any money?”

“Yes, actually. A whole fucking bunch. Despite you barely even being there, the fundraiser was a rousing success. I’ll give you the numbers tomorrow.” He took a hit. “ . . . Afternoon.”

“Fine,” said Hux, and it wasn’t a sarcastic ‘fine’ because he really meant it. Everything was, really, fine.

Under the comforter, Kylo slid his arm around Hux’s waist.

Hux couldn’t picture himself here, physically or emotionally, a year ago. But here he was, and here were the people with him, and it was fine.

Maybe even better than fine.

It occurred to him that he’d been building something for a very long time, and not all of it was his campaign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a lot of things to say.
> 
> Firstly, this is not the end. When it’s over, you’ll know.
> 
> Secondly- THANKS. Thanks to everyone who’s read, left comments, kudos, linked this fic, everything. I love you all.
> 
> When I was still in the planning stages, this chapter almost got cut. The people who convinced me to keep it in are [space-emos](http://space-emos.tumblr.com/) and [starfleetofficial](http://starfleetofficial.tumblr.com/). This is their fault.  
>   
> Hux’s outfit is [THIS ONE](http://space-emos.tumblr.com/post/140900169221/decotex-wanted-kylux-in-a-lana-del-rey-aesthetic) drawn by space-emos.
> 
> Ghost’s dress is [THIS](http://www.mlh-shop.com/product/sanibel). (Sold out but you should still be able to view it. If not here’s a [direct image link](http://www.mlh-shop.com/uploads/products/2015W51/sanibel-mystery-3148275186-1344x2000.jpg).) I knew from the start that Ghost had to wear a Maria Lucia Hohan dress, one of the really flowy magical ones, and this one just felt right.
> 
> And if you’re wondering if I picked out the underwear the queen gave to Ghost, how fucking dare you even insinuate that I  
> just kidding it’s [THIS](http://www.luisaviaroma.com/bordelle/women/lingerie/63I-GGV016/lang_EN/colorid_Q1JFQU01?SubLine=clothing&CategoryId=121) pair.
> 
> Okay and lastly I’m seriously the slowest writer in the world and I’m SORRY I SUCK but the motivation I get from you guys seriously helps me so much! Your comments are my lifeblood. <3
> 
>  


	11. Chapter 11

“ . . . And that’s why you should never buy a speeder from a Wampa!”

Chuck laughed, throwing back his head-tentacles. Mirquanda shot Chuck finger guns, who shot them back.

“Anyway,” said Chuck, wiping tears from his eyes. “Onto real, hard-hitting news.”

“Right you are, Chuck,” said Mir’Quanda. “The facts. The story we’re all here for.”

Chuck nodded. “It’s time to discuss the economic ramifications of the upcoming First Order takeover. . . . Just kidding. It’s time for the HOT GOSSIP WALL!”

A neon splash title blinked on the screen.

“General Hux’s Fundraising Ball happened last week. And boy, it was, by all accounts, poppin.”

“Poppin’ with  _ security.  _ Aside from the multiple security checkpoints, no electronic devices were allowed inside the Guild, except for the First Order Officially Sanctioned Propaganda Photographer. Whether this rule applied to cyborgs is unknown, as none of them were rich or famous enough to receive an invitation.”

“Fortunately for us, not even the First Order can stop the spread of  _ hot gossip!  _ Check out these anonymously submitted stories from the night.”

 “Posted during the ball, this user said, “Queen of Mand. all over Hux. Eyes on the prize.” 

 “Eyes on the prize definitely. Is the Queen of Mandalore trying to position herself as Queen of the Galaxy?”

 “I wouldn’t say that, Mirquanda. I’d say she’s looking for a different sort of position.”

 “Oh, _Chuck_ , please. Regardless of her intentions, Trisken, Queen of Mandalore and galactic fashion icon was definitely one of the stars of the ball. She wowed celebrities and less important people alike in a custom dress by Squall O’o’oogathu.” 

“Here’s another anonymous message. This user says, “Trisken? Hux? Real queen of the ball is the naked dude in charge.”

 “Said ‘Naked Dude’ is probably Androssi Ghost, Hux’s campaign manager. Reports say that he’s the source of the First Order’s recent discovery of the color spectrum. He’s emerged as an unexpected fashion icon. Unfortunately, there are no pictures. Shame, I would have liked to see that.”

 “So would I, Mirquanda,” said Chuck, nodding solemnly. “So would I.”

 “Here’s another one; “Hux and Ren stepped onto the balcony alone.’ And then later, by the same user; “Update: Hux and Ren bounced. Don’t think they’re coming back.”

 “What a night, Mirquanda. What a night. What have our galaxy’s most dangerous couple been up to since then, Mir’Quanda? More publicity?”

 “Actually, Chuck, Hux and Ren are currently in northern Decim on vacation. They’re staying in President Bliss’ luxurious, beachfront, vacation home!”

 “A much deserved vacation, may I add.”

 “A much deserved vacation indeed.”

\---

Hux pondered the mailman conundrum while walking the sandstone and succulent-lined pedestrian streets of northern Decim. 

Who bodyguards a bodyguard? If a high-profile target acts as a bodyguard for another high-profile target, do they hire a second bodyguard or does the first bodyguard guard himself? 

Hux looked at Kylo, who was tan and freckled and pointedly ignoring all the people staring at him, and decided that anyone assigned to protect Kylo would be: a) redundant, and b) not long for this world. 

As they walked, people on the streets stopped and pointed but absolutely and under no circumstances approached or spoke to them. 

A few were brave enough to take pictures. Hux ignored them. Publicity was part of the job, which Hux accepted as he did most things: passive-aggressively.

Medallion Hope was a small, upscale restaurant, located along the cliffs of northern Decim. It had a seating area for standard guests and a private lounge overlooking the ocean for special guests. 

Hux and Kylo were led to this lounge immediately, upon which they found-

“Your Highness,” said Hux, bowing. 

A woman in a dress made of breezy orange tulle and embroidered with flowers looked over.  

“So the rumors are true. How lucky for you both, and how unfortunate for the rest of us.”

“Trisken,” said Hux. “Good to see you. I’m surprised you’re still here.” 

“So am I.” She rested her cheek in her hand and narrowed her eyes. “You’ve rattled the skies, Hux. My security team is. . . flustered. They won’t let me leave.”

“My apologies.”

She sighed, sat back, and picked up a wine glass. “Oh, it’s not your fault. And this planet is lovely, albeit slow. When’s your next ball?”   


“Hah.”

Trisken examined the wine glass in a disinterested fashion.

“How’s that man of yours?”

Hux looked at Kylo hesitantly. 

Trisken waved her hand. “No, the pretty one- no offense, Ren. The girly one.”

“Oh, Ghost? He’s still at the Guild, actually. Working.”

“Does he- will his contract with you be up soon? He might be . . . available, yes?”

“Don’t even think about it. He’s mine, Trisken. I found him first.” 

“Hmm,” said Trisken, looking at her nails. “Well, send him my regards. What brings you to the north, then? Business or business?”

“Believe it or not, pleasure.”

Kylo elbowed him. Hux pretended not to notice. 

“Hux,” said Trisken, unaware. “You’re a military genius but something tells me your idea of pleasure is a pen that allows you to fill out invoices more efficiently.”

“Involuntary pleasure, then. My campaign manager is worried I’m overworked. Exiled me to the north for a week.”

“And your campaign, it will not suffer?”

“My part is done, for now. The voting members are debating, delivering speeches to each other and what not. Next week is the vote, and that’s it. It’s out of my hands. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself at night to stay sane.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end. These things usually do.”

Her flippancy, while oblivious, was at least comforting in that whatever happened, there was one person who wouldn’t care. 

“Anyway,” she continued. “It strikes me that this is the first time we’ve officially met, Ren. How are you? You’re some sort of Lord of the Force, yes? Have you caught any rebel Jedi in this area?”

Hux saw the internal struggle in Kylo’s eyes as he fought past the casual butchering of his occupation. 

“Not lately.”

“What do you think of the north? It’s very beautiful but a bit dull, in my opinion.”

“I like it. It’s quiet.”

“And you are someone who is very appreciative of quiet environments, yes? Then tell me this, Kylo Ren; how do you put up with  _ him _ ?"   


“A lifetime of extreme training in self-control.”

Trisken rolled her eyes. “You two were made for each other,” she muttered. “Anyway, I’m off. Shops and the like. I’ll leave you two alone for some  _ quiet _ time.” 

Several attendants were suddenly at Trisken’s side as she stood up, helping smooth and lift the fabric of her dress.

“Oh,” she added. “And try the fried bork-slug. It has  _ such _ a lovely marinade.”

\----

The north of Decim had sort of abandoned the rest of Decim’s subtlety and style and instead gone for an all out, “we are rich and we are not afraid to show it,” vibe. Rather than the artificially rugged look of the rest of the planet, the north was made of black and white marble, gold plating, and private white sand beaches. It was the kind of place where nothing has price tags (if you have to ask, you can’t afford it).

In keeping with the theme, President Bliss’ beachfront vacation home in northern Decim was shamelessly luxurious. It was U-shaped, with a pool in the center. 

The pool, somewhat redundantly, overlooked the beach. 

\---

Afternoon sun streamed in through the open windows directly onto Hux. He would have moved, except Kylo was tracing the outlines of the blinds on his chest, sort of subconsciously. It was a nice moment and Hux didn’t want to risk it.

“Do you tan?” Kylo asked. 

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

Hux was reminded of something, and was so content at this very moment that he decided to say bring it up. 

“I lied to you, you know.”

“What?” asked Kylo. His hand stopped, a little tentatively. 

“Nothing important. It was ages ago, back on the Finalizer. I was just testing to see if you already knew my past, and if you were still looking into my mind. The fact that I’ve felt guilty ever since is . . . worrying. It’s awfully late for me to start developing a conscience.”

“What did you say?”

“I told you I went to Arkanis Academy.”

“Didn’t you?” asked Kylo, with such genuine uncertainty that Hux was was sure he didn’t already know.

“Arkanis was abandoned when the Empire fell. My father and the rest of the Empire supporters took what was left of the fleet and hid in the Outer Rim territories.”

“So you grew up on-”

“On ships, yes. The first time I remember stepping foot on a planet, I was seventeen.”

Hux knew that Kylo was staring at him openly, but pretended not to notice, looking anywhere but his face and doing a great job of looking casual, he was sure.

“I don’t like telling people,” he said, finally. “It makes them feel bad for me.” 

“I feel bad for you.”

“Don’t,” said Hux, rather harshly. 

“Did you . . . did you have a  _ good _ childhood, then?”

Hux considered lying, he really did, but found he just didn’t have it in him.

“No.”

It hung in the air for a moment, awkwardly.

“If it helps,” said Kylo. “Neither did I.”

“Obviously.” 

And then it was done, and the moment was over, and Kylo pushed his head more snugly against Hux’s shoulder and resumed stroking his chest. 

The thing about opening yourself up is that it allows for people to touch the warmest parts of you.

\---

Some afternoons they spent lying by the pool, on one of the lounge sofas in the shade. Maybe he  _ had  _ needed this vacation because Hux was not finding it as difficult as he’d imagine to do nothing all day. 

Well- not nothing.

“Want to try something?

Kylo, who was lying face-down on the cushions, hair splayed around him, pushed himself up onto his elbows. 

“Yes.”

Hux rolled up his sleeves. “I’ve never done this before, but, I overheard these people talking back at the Guild this one time and. . . you know what, forget it. Tell me if this does anything for you.”

“Uh,” said Kylo. And then, in a sort of quiet, reverent awe; “ _ Oh.” _

\---

FIVE MINUTES LATER

\---

“I’ve never seen your toes curl like that.”

Kylo, who was faceplanted into the pillow and breathing heavily, didn’t even look up. 

\---

One afternoon, Hux found Kylo in the sitting on one of the plush couches in the large room that looked out over the ocean. Small, metal parts were scattered on the glass table in front of him. 

He was holding a complicated-looking metal bar and a very tiny welding torch, and appeared to be doing the world’s most delicate robotic surgery of all time. 

Hux waited until he was done, until the smoke from the torch had dissipated and Kylo had set the piece down to cool, before approaching. 

“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing at the metal bar. 

“Nothing,” said Kylo. “Yet. I bought it today. It  _ was _ some sort of self-defense device- like supersonic brass knuckles. I . . . saw potential. I’m re-purposing it.”

“For what purposes?”   


“Well . . . the transmitter at the top can be removed and replaced with- not the kyber crystal in my lightsaber but a smaller one, perhaps. It would extend outwards from the knuckles, maybe a foot, depending on the . . . and it would be a very effective weapon, allowing for lesser protection against decapitation or stabbing directly into the front of a skull . . .” He trailed off, staring at the metal piece on the table with a strange expression on his face

“Sorry,” he said, after a moment.

“For what?” Hux asked.

“For thinking of things like that, at a time like this . . . in a place like this.”

Hux stared. “You can think of whatever you want. Wherever you want.”

“It’s bad.”

“It’s practical.”

“I hate that I can’t- I wish things could stay like this forever.”

“Like what?”   


“You know.”

Hux picked up the metal bar- not the side that Kylo had just welded, because he wasn’t an  _ idiot _ , but by the opposite side, and examined it. The circuitry was even more visibly complicated up close. He was considering it so closely that he was mildly surprised when a large, rough hand covered his own and softly pushed the metal piece toward the table, away from his face. 

“You’re going to poke your eye out.”

Hux looked up at Kylo, whose had was still on his own, and tilted his chin up. 

“You’re not my mother.”

“I’m your bodyguard. If you died, I’d have to fire myself.”

“Fair enough.”

\---

It was hot outside and it was hot inside and Kylo couldn’t be bothered to wear clothes most of the time, and there was no one around to shame Hux for how monstrously attracted he was to this dark, brooding,  _ ripped _ non-stranger, and so it was logical that things got obscene, frequently. 

It was sometime between midnight and morning when Hux found himself collapsed in a bed- and it wasn’t even the master bedroom, it was a guest bed in an entirely different part of the house that they had somehow found themselves in- panting, sweaty, not at all graceful but feeling very wantonly happy. 

It was dark out but the room was warmly lit by hanging lights. A motion-activated heat-retardant fireplace was burning tepidly across the room. 

Hux noticed Kylo, sitting next to him on the bed, was blatantly staring at him.  

“Take a picture,” Hux managed, sort of breathily. “It’ll last longer.”

He closed his eyes and drifted. He vaguely heard the sound of footsteps leading away from the room, and then silence, and then footsteps again. 

Hux opened his eyes.

Kylo was standing at the foot of the bed, pointing a holoscreen at him. 

“Kylo Ren I honestly can’t believe you sometimes. You actual, enormous idiot.”

“Relax. The photo’s decent.”

“Small mercies.”

\---

“Do you think . . . do you think this can last?”

“Can’t it?”

\---

The store owners in northern Decim, who were extremely gossip-prone, were having the time of their lives. 

"What did they buy?" asked one salesperson to the salesperson working next door. 

"Khakis."

_" . . . Khakis?"_   


"Yes. Calf-length."

"For who? Ren?"

"No, the General."

"What does the General want with khakis?"  


"I've no idea, but they'll match that cashmere sweater they bought from you yesterday."

___

They were sitting on the beach one evening when Hux spoke up.

“So, don’t make this weird.”

“What?”

“Just don’t.”

“Okay.”

Hux took something out of his pocket and put it into Kylo’s hand. 

Kylo stared at it.

“I thought you gave it to Ghost,” he said, softly.

“I didn’t. And I don’t expect you to  _ wear _ it. I think you’ve somehow managed to be rather helpful recently. Whether on purpose or by accident I couldn’t say, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Kylo stared at the ring. He tilted his open palm, and the diamond faceted in the shape of the First Order logo glittered in the light of the setting sun. 

He slipped it into his pocket. 

They did not make eye contact. 

“You know, a while ago you turned down the position of General’s Consort. How do you feel about Emperor’s Consort?"

“Technically it’d still be-”

“I know. But, you know. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad for you to, when you’re not off murdering people or meditating on a space rock or something, for you to stick around.”

There was a pause.

“I mean, obligation free. I wouldn’t tie you down.”

“Maybe I want to be tied down.”

“Kinky.”

There was a beat.

“ . . . Just to clarify, you  _ did _ mean in the sexy way, right? Not . . . another way?”

Kylo shrugged. “You look good in white.”

Hux stared at him. Kylo was trying to look apathetic, but he’d always been fatally bad at hiding his feelings. 

 “Say it,” said Hux.

 "What?”

 “You know. Say it.”

 “Say what?”

“For once in your cryptic, melodramatic life, Kylo Ren, use your words.”

 “I- _you_ use your words.”

 “Come on. You’re a child.”

 “I’m a warrior,” said Kylo Ren, childishly.

 “You’re a human disaster, feared only by people and inanimate objects that are unfortunate enough to commit the sin of proximity.”

 “You’re . . . a tiny, fragile man whose stubbornness is only eclipsed in size by his ego.”

 “Which is only eclipsed in size by my-”

Kylo shoved him backwards into the sand and kissed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [theme song for this chapter: shark, by oh wonder](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1RE8jRXhy0)
> 
> i was linked to this almost a year ago by space-emos on tumblr <3
> 
> \---
> 
> i know, i know
> 
> fucking FINALLY
> 
> don't worry guys i swear to god i'm going to finish this. i know exactly what's going to happen and i just need to write it. 
> 
> the short version is that i'm working on a cool original thing! it's gonna be sick. if you want to thoroughly interrogate me about my shitty schedule, which you're absolutely welcome and entitled to do, head over to my tumblr at decotext.tumblr.com
> 
> lastly, i gotta plus my latest obsession. [LOVESYCK](http://www.lovesyck.com) is a fucking insane, hilarious, beautiful webcomic by the same person who writes the insanely popular I Roved Out. please check it out and then message me about it because im fucking obsessed with carver stucco
> 
> i love you guys. thanks for sticking around. <3 your comments and likes and everything are so amazing and give me a shot passed 20k views recently which fucking blows my mind.


	12. Chapter 12

Hux and Kylo arrived back at the Executive Guild without much fanfare, which was a nice change of pace. 

Kylo immediately left, for characteristically vague reasons. 

“For work,” he said. “I need to do something.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Hux, who knew better now than to ask questions.

\---

His first official day back from vacation, Ghost met Hux outside the door to his suite. 

“Been waiting here all week, haven’t you.”

“While your vacation was much needed, there are several things I’d like to discuss with you as soon as possible. Sign these.”

Ghost handed Hux several pages on a holoscreen, which he signed and then handed back. 

“What were those?” asked Hux. 

“Stupid things. Don’t worry about it. How was the trip?”

“We ran into Her Majesty, Queen of Mandalore. She wanted to steal you.”

“How flattering. What did you tell her?”

“That she could do so over my dead body.”

“That’s sweet, Hux.”

“That’s good business, and so are you.”

“That’s the title of my next self-help book.”

They entered Ghost’s office. Hux went to his usual chair (the lounge seat). 

The moment the door closed, Ghost dropped the professional persona and veritably bounded over to sit next to Hux. 

“I’ve heard rumors,” he said, excitedly. 

“From reliable sources, I’m sure.”

“Rumor has it that you gave your dark handsome stranger a certain jewelry item.”

Hux frowned. “How did people find out about that? That was supposed to be-”

The air wasn’t exactly knocked out of him, but it did sort of pause confusedly as Ghost wrapped his arms around him tightly. 

“Oh no,” said Ghost, a little hysterically. “Oh  _ no _ . Hux, you didn’t.”

“You’re right,” said Hux, as Ghost pulled back. “I didn’t. It was just a gift. A gift for me, and then I passed it along to him. I mean, the sort of gift you’d give someone when you really appreciate the . . . way that they’ve helped you.”

The last part came out slowly because Hux, as he said it, finally realized why he’d given it to Kylo in the first place. 

“Oh, sure. Yeah. The platonic diamond ring. Very popular in the corporate world as a token of gratitude.”

“I’ll token  _ your _ gratitude,” said Hux, turning on his holoscreen and staring down at it.

Ghost tugged on his shoulder. 

“Wait but HuuuUUUUUUuuux, seriously. Are you going to marry him?”

“No! Not immediately. I don’t even know what we are. Kylo and me. I don’t even know if I’d call us friends.”

“I think that depends on how widely your platonic umbrella covers sex and romance.”

“Ghost-”

“I know having feelings must be confusing for you Hux, considering you rarely have them. But one last thing, and just trust me on this one- sit down with him and have a mature talk about your relationship and your goals.”

“Hmm,” said Hux, scrolling down his holoscreen and pretending to be busy. Ghost sighed and stood up. 

“Hux?” Ghost said. 

“Yes?”   
  
“I think it’s a bad sign that just now, when I suggested a mature conversation, is by far the most terrified I’ve ever seen you.”

“Thank you, Ghost.”

\---

“So?”   
  
“So what?” asked Aisha, shelling Gork beetles in what she hoped was an oblivious and casual fashion. 

“Have you seen him? Is it true?” asked Zandaray. 

“Seen who?”

“Don’t play dumb. The love of your life.”

“Sorry what?”

“ _ The General.” _

“Oh, is he back? I didn’t know.”

“Aisha Abaya do not pretend you haven’t heard the rumors that General Hux is engaged.”

“Oh, is he? Rumors, such funny things,” said Aisha, peeling the outer shell off a particularly large Gork beetle so hard that it broke in half. 

“Stop cooking dinner and tell me what you know. I  _ know _ you know things.”

Aisha sighed. 

“Look. All I know is what you know. There are  _ rumors. _ They’re just rumors. I . . . may have happened to be in the hallway when the General walked by earlier. I accidentally happened by chance to glance at his hands and noticed, completely accidentally, that he wasn’t wearing a ring. So that’s all I know.”

Zandaray leaned against the counter of the staff kitchen.

“So what do you think’s with it? You think if the vote doesn’t pass, if Hux doesn’t become an Emperor, then Kylo’s going to leave him? Maybe it all hinges on that- like if the vote passes, they get married. If not, the stress is too much and the separate. Can I have some of that?”

“When it’s done. I’m making soup. And there’s no point in speculating. The vote’s still up in the air. Although in my opinion the decision is  _ obvious.” _

“Alright, alright. I guess we'll all find out together, in a few days."

\---

“What,” said Hux as soon as he walked in and saw Kylo, because Kylo was incapable of pretending that nothing was wrong. He had the unique gift of displaying through his face and posture that his heart was currently somewhere near his bowels. 

Kylo didn’t say anything, and the more Hux looked at him, the more worried he became. 

“What,” he repeated. 

“You should cancel the campaign.”

Hux took a moment to take back every word of commitment and mature conversation he’d thought of on his way here. 

“What?”

“You should cancel it. The whole thing.”

Hux stared at him for a moment longer, and then shrugged off his coat and went to put it away.

“Kylo, you’re actually insane.”

“Hux I’m serious. Cancel it."

“Why?”

“ . . . I can’t-”

“You can’t say. How surprising.”

“You never listen to me.”

“I would if you ever told me anything other than cryptic warnings.”

“I tell you everything that’s relevant.”

“What a fantastic communicational basis for a relationship. If I ran the First Order that way, we’d all be dead by now.”

“See, you just said- you don’t run the First Order, Hux. You act like you do but you don’t.”

“But I basically-”

“I don’t want to argue with you,” said Kylo, and Hux felt bad because he looked like he meant it. “Please quit. Please.”

“Are you going to give me a reason?”

“I can’t, Hux,” Kylo said, miserably. 

“Then no. I’m sorry.”

Kylo looked away, out the window, at the distant skyline of the beach, and he was still looking at it when Hux felt his body get heavy and his mind slip into unconsciousness.

\---

 

Tonight, one of the security cameras in the Executive Guild captures the following;

\---

Hux, First Order General and Emperor hopeful, collapses. He’s out before he hits the ground, which is especially true because he falls gently, like the air is supporting him. 

Kylo Ren walks into frame. Slowly. He’s wide eyed. He kneels down next to the General and puts his head on his chest. 

His shoulders shake, like he’s laughing. 

He sits up and rubs his sleeve over his teary face. He’s a mess.

Kylo looks Hux directly in the face and says something that the camera doesn’t pick up. 

Whatever it is, he looks like he means it.

He seems to pull himself together. 

He picks up the General and carries him, bridal-style, out of frame. 

\---

The footage, which is on a 12-hour cycle, sits in the databases of the Executive Guild mainframe until it is eventually deleted, never having been watched. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of part 1 (part 2 will continue right here stay TUNED)
> 
> surprise bitches, two chapters in a week 
> 
> also
> 
> i'm sorry 
> 
> uploads will continue right here as usual except we're moving on to part 2 okay okay but they'll be in the same place, like don't look for a new fic THEY WILL CONTINUE RIGHT HERE
> 
> yell at me on my tumblr if u want its okay i deserve it decotext.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begin: Part 2

The first thing Hux saw when he woke up was a green sky, and for a moment while his head was still heavy he thought he was underwater.

Some sort of bird with two sets of wings flew across his field of vision.

He sat up and took stock.

Body: Fine, surprisingly. Everything appeared to be in working order, or as working as they’d ever been.

Surroundings: Not immediately threatening. He was lying on a patch of grass in a clearing circled by trees.

Location: Unknown. From the color of the sky, he was at least confident he wasn’t on Decim anymore.

Emotion status:  . . .

There was a supply bag next to him, like one you’d find on a military ship. Hux opened it.

It was the standard military supply kit. Someone had shoved protein bars in all of the extra pockets.

Protein bars.

Hux took a moment.

_Protein bars._

He picked up the bag, put it down, and then picked it back up again.

And then, Hux started walking.

 

\---

_THE PAST: SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTER RIM_

\---

 

“This final will determine your placing in the military ranks. The highest scoring student will be admitted to the elite training ship, training directly under high command. Students in the bottom ten percent will not be admitted to the next level. The rest of you will proceed to medium level military training.”

The officer stared the students down for one long, demeaning moment.

“Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said the class.

“Excused.”

\---

At lunch, a group of students sat at the corner table. There were two dark haired boys and one girl, blonde, who was taller than the others in a gangly sort of way.

“You scared?” said one of the boys.

“Nah,” said the girl. “All I have to do it not be in the bottom ten. Easy.” She said this with a confidence that was clearly only surface-deep.

“Yeah,” said the boy. “But I want the top score. ‘Course, I got some competition. You already planning your first move as General, Thatch?”

“It could be anyone. I’m not _that_ smart,” said Thatch, with modesty that was exactly as deep as the girl’s confidence.

“Shut up. It’s gonna be you and everyone knows it. You’re the smartest person in the class.”

Thatch shrugged and looked down. “Maybe not.”

There was a brief pause that would definitely be filled by a glare in the direction of a certain individual, if that individual were present.

“You’ve gotta beat him, Thatch,” said the girl. “He’s _horrible_. He can’t become an officer.”

“He won’t. He’s smart but he’s, you know, that thing. _Hubris_ , I think it is. He’ll take himself down. And if he doesn’t, I will.”

\---

Thatch walked up and down the corridor until the person he was waiting for exited their room.

“Hey. You scared?” asked Thatch casually, as if he’d just happened to be walking this way.

The boy turned around. He had ginger hair and a condescending expression.

“Of what? You?”

“It’s a real test of knowledge. You’ve got to get the highest score, or else you’re a fraud. Everyone’s gonna find out that you’re only getting by because of your father. Bet you’re pissing your pants right now.”

The ginger boy tilted his head upwards in the way that poor people can’t.

“Don’t speak to me. You’re not worthy of my time. And no, I’m not scared. I have nothing to be afraid of. I will get the highest score because I am the smartest person on this ship, and then I will go to the elite training ship, where I will get the highest scores because I will be the smartest person on that ship, and then when I take over my father’s position due to ability and not nepotism, the first thing I’ll do is eject you out of an airlock. Until then, enjoy what’s left of your pathetic, miserable life, Thatch.”

He turned on his heel and walked the opposite way, leaving a trail of disdain in his wake.

Thatch grinned.

“Someone’s feeling insecure.”

 

\---

_NOW: DECIM: A VERY GRANDIOSE IF NOT ORGANIZED BEDROOM: 3 AM_

\---

 

Ghost was woken up by someone gently shaking him.

“Hey!” he yelled, flailing wildly in self defense.

“Shhhh,” said Drax, putting a finger to her lips. She looked down, looked back up, and then slowly pulled the blanket back up up to his chest. “No time. We’ve got to go. Something’s going down.”

Ghost winked out of reflex while still glaring. “Explain yourself.”

“Someone’s attacking the Guild. I don’t know who, but I know there are a lot of them. Get up . . . and also put some pants on. Please.”

“Sounds like a job for somebody else.”

Drax rolled her eyes. “You’re next, you idiot. I’m trying to save your life. God knows _why_.”

“If someone is mounting an attack on the Guild, which is, by the way, impenetrable, President Bliss should-”

“Bliss is dead.”

Ghost’s paused, as the implication sunk in.

“Hux?” he asked.

“Gone,” said Drax, grimly. “So is Kylo.”

He took a moment to process this. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. _Fuuuck_.”

“Exactly. Let’s go. And also, pants. Seriously, you’ve got to own some.”

 

\---

_THE PAST: SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTER RIM_

\---

 

Hux didn’t leave his room often, so Thatch and his friends had taken to hanging out in Study Room Beta, which was located at the end of the hallway near Hux’s room.

“Hey!” yelled Thatch one afternoon. “Where you going? Meeting with your father? He gonna give you the answers to the final?”

Hux, who had been walking down the hallway, sighed audibly and irritably.

“I don’t need the answers to beat you. I don’t even need to study to beat you. Study your heart out- it won’t matter.”

“I heard they’re making the test harder this year. Gonna use it to weed people out. I’ve got half of the text memorized, Hux. Ask me anything. I’ve been studying for three straight days. You won’t admit it, but you’re afraid.”

“No.”

“It’s gonna be so great when Thatch beats you,” said Thatch’s friend.

Hux stared at him. “Who are you? I don’t even recognize your face. That’s how inconsequential you are. You’re nothing. You are background noise.”

Hux turned to look at the tall girl. “And what about you? You’re our ship’s resident _idiot_ , aren’t you? The weak link in the chain? When I’m in charge, people like you won’t be allowed to use up valuable air on our ships.”

She rolled her eyes and glared at him.

“I’d ask you not to waste my time again, but I know it would be pointless,” announced Hux, as he walked away.

His footsteps faded away, and the group went back to studying.

It was silent for a moment, until Thatch spoke up.

“Man, I hate that guy.”

 

\---

_NOW: LOCATION UNKNOWN_

\---

 

Hux was down to his last powerbar when he came across a village.

Unable to summon any enthusiasm even for a life-saving discovery, Hux walked towards one of the guard towers and waved his arms.

“Hey! Over here! I’m friendly!”

“Freeze!” yelled one of the guards, as the others ran towards him.

“I am!” Hux yelled back. “In every meaning of the word. Can I come inside?”

“Don’t move! Freeze! Put your hands behind your head!”

The guards got closer, and Hux spotted a familiar insignia on their uniforms.

“Great,” said Hux, as he complied. “So it’s going to be that kind of day. Great.”

 

\---

 

_THE PAST: SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTER RIM_

\---

 

The students, faculty, and officers gathered in the main auditorium for the results of the final test.

The officer charged with reading them had no sense of theatricality or suspense.

“The highest score is Amadeus Vaso.”

The students looked around the room, confusedly. So did some of the teachers.

“Amadeus Vaso, come forward.”

Everyone looked around for a moment.

And then, Hux stood up.

“Wait,” whispered Thatch urgently as Hux passed him. “They didn’t call your name!”

Hux looked him dead in the eye and said, quietly; “You didn’t think my first name was Hux, did you?”

The room watched silently as Hux walked up to the head officer.

“You will explain yourself,” said the officer.

“Of course. I’m officially registered in the database without my last name, to prevent differential treatment. This has been approved by both my father and the department chair.”

The officer nodded slowly. “I see. We will look into this further. I will now list the students in the bottom ten percent, who will _not_ be proceeding to the next level.”

\---

“Hey!” yelled Thatch, chasing after the figure in the distance. “Hey! Amadeus! Hux! Whatever your name is! Hey, wait!”

Hux ignored him as he caught up and slowed to walk beside him.

“I’ve gotta know,” said Thatch, breathlessly. “How’d you do it?”

“Same way you did.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

"Is Amadeus Vaso your real name?"

"No."

"What is it?"

"None of your business."

They walked in silence for a moment.

“I’ve gotta hand it to you, Hux,” said Thatch, honestly. “You win.”

“As meaningless as that is, coming from you, thank you.”

Thatch stopped walking. “Hux, can I tell you something? Before you go off to the elite ship. Just one last thing.”

Hux stopped and turned. “Fine.”

"You’re never going to be a great leader, Hux. You know why? Because nobody likes you. You can be the smartest person in the world and it won’t matter because you can’t be a leader without people to lead. I’m more of a leader than you’ll ever be. You’re going to die alone, Hux. Your body will have barely hit the ground before your closest associates are scrambling to rip the crown from your head.”

Hux nodded. “I appreciate the advice. Goodbye, Thatch. Next time I see you, I expect you’ll be frozen in an eternal grimace of pain as you float lifelessly through the void of space.”

“Go fuck yourself, Hux. Fuck you.”

\---

Hux went to the Supply Room Kappa and put his head in his hands, and sat like that for a long time.

 

\---

_NOW: A SHADY BAR SOMEWHERE_

\---

 

Drax slammed the glass down on the counter and, wide eyed, threw back the chaser like her life depended on it.

“Oh, come on. It’s not so bad.”

Drax glared. “It tastes like bleach.”

“I can’t confirm that that’s not one of the ingredients,” said Ghost, sipping his drink delicately.

Drax watched him. They were sitting at a bar counter. Dusty light from two suns streamed through a nearby window. There was the sound of livestock outside.

“Remember a few months ago, when I asked how you could tell that Kylo and Hux hadn’t been around each other and you said to ask you after a few drinks?” asked Drax.

“No.”

“Well, you did, and I’m asking.”

Ghost sighed.

“Well, it’s- it’s a bit strange. I’m sure you’ve noticed but . . . you know I’m not human, right?”

“I, I noticed some things but it’s impolite to ask so . . .”

“The teeth didn’t tip you off?”

“I don’t know! They could be cosmetic. I don’t know fashion.”

“They’re not. They’re sharper, actually, if you let them grow naturally. I file them down.”

“Why?”

“It’s like . . . I guess it’s equivalent to shaving.”

“Oh. Okay. But how did you know? The, Kylo and Hux, I mean.”

“I’ve got this, don’t . . . this is less odd that it sounds, but I can, sort of . . .” He put his head in his hands and mumbled something.

“What?”

“I can smell it.”

“You can smell . . . people?”

“It’s sort of, it’s like, like animals, is the inelegant way of putting it. And it’s not all the time. Really, most of the time I’m basically human. It’s just like if I want to, I can notice it.”

“Like . . . like an aura?”

“Yes, except less nonexistent.”

“What do I smell like?”

“Alcohol.”

“All the time?” she asked, alarmed.

“No. It’s hard to describe. How would one describe the color orange, for example?”

“A mix of yellow and red, the color of the Earth fruit orange, the second color in the traditional Earth model of the rainbow-”

“Thanks. Good. You smell like . . .” He thought for a moment. “Linen.”

“Linen?”

“Kind of. Most humans smell sort of like linen. I don’t usually put much effort into differentiating. It’s like, everyone’s skin tone is unique but you don’t concentrate very strongly on noticing the exact details.”

“And you noticed Kylo’s scent on Hux?”

“I’m not a _dog._ I don’t go around looking for scents. Kylo just, he smells of mint.”

“I thought you said most people smelled like linen?”

“Which is why it’s very noticeable and not strange or animalistic that I noticed the lack of Kylo’s scent on Hux. Anyway, there you go. That’s the story.”

Drax to a moment to consider this.

“Is it usually, so you can generally tell when people-”

“Spend a lot of time around other people. Yes.”

“But can you, um-”

“Are you asking if I can tell when people have sex?”

“ . . . Maybe.”

“Yes. There you go. I can.”

“Oh. That’s cool. Interesting, I mean. Very, that’s fine. Okay.”

Simultaneously, they both took a drink.

“What are you?” asked Drax, suddenly. “Sorry, that came out horrible. I mean what race, uh, where are your parents-”

“Calm down, Drax. I’m Peth.”

“ . . . What’s Peth?”

“It’s a race. And a planet. And their greatest export.”

“Creative people, the Peth.”

“Truly.”

“Which one are you?”

“Hah.”

“What’s it like then? The planet, I mean.”

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve never been.”

Drax sipped her drink. It was growing on her.

Across the room, a squidlian bartender took another squidlian’s order in an alien language.

"Is there anything else you can do? Anything . . . not human, I mean."

He stared at her and blinked.

Sideways.

“That is . . . terrifying.”

“I can also unhinge my jaw.”

“Are there even any practical  uses for that?”

He winked.

 

\---

_THE PAST: SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTER RIM_

\---

 

Someone was crying in Study Room Theta.

Hux considered following his gut and ignoring it, but he was in an odd mood and instead went inside.

The blonde, Thatch’s friend, sat at one of the benches, crying.

Awkwardly, Hux went and, very slowly sat next to her.

It was silent for a few moments, save from the noise of crying.

“You didn’t want it. Don’t be upset about not getting something you didn’t want in the first place.”

The girl looked up at him, face red and wet and angry. “Eat shit and die.”

“I’m serious. There are other positions. Pick something you actually want, and do that. You’ll probably be better at it.”

She slapped him. Hard.

“I hate you!” she screamed.

Hux, who’d been thrown against the wall, picked himself up.

She resumed crying.

Hux brought his hand up to his cheek. It stung.

“So do I. But I’m working on it. I promise.”

 

\---

 _NOW: PLANET_ _KLONOID_

\---

 

It wasn’t an official Resistance base, which was probably the only good thing Hux could say about his current situation. No, that was a lie. It was also good that he’d thought to rip off his General’s stripes before he he got here.

He appeared to have been captured by a sort of Resistance-sympathetic clusterfuck of a militia.

Really, his situation could be a lot worse. He’d been informed by his captors that he was on the planet Klonoid and would be interrogated for his First Order knowledge, which would then be passed on to the Resistance.

At the moment, Hux sat in a makeshift interrogation room which looked suspiciously like a supply closet. A man, who looked suspiciously like someone who’d never done this before, sat across from him. The man took a deep breath, like he was preparing himself for a mental battle of determination and will.

“Now, we’re going to make you talk if it takes fifty years-”

“I’ll tell you everything.”

The interrogator looked at him. That was easy.

“You . . . have conditions, I’m assuming?”

“Yes,” said Hux. “Yes I do. I have several bottles worth of conditions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory ahoy, feat. some Ghost'n Drax interludes. 
> 
> And don't worry- everyone's favorite emo is back next chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

As far as prisons go, Hux had seen worse.

Hux had almost exclusively seen worse.  

The Resistance-sympathetic Klonoid militia was woefully underprepared for locust season, let alone Hux’s negotiating skills. It was this way that Hux set himself up with a “prison cell” consisting of a suite on the top floor of the militia compound and an endless supply of wine.

It was far from luxury- the lounge seat on the balcony was actually _plastic_ \- but Hux had given up on things like “standards” long ago.

Put it this way- by Decim standards, it was garbage. By Klonoid standards, it was the presidential suite.

He stayed in his suite, offered up classified information when he felt like it, drank quite a lot, and waited.

\---

Someone knocked on the door.

“Room service?” called Hux.

“ . . . It’s Ryan,” came the muffled reply.

“Come in.”

The door opened, tentatively. A blue-skinned, three-eyed teenager stepped inside.

“Chuck? I brought you a box of red.”

“Thank you, Ryan.”

Ryan set the boxes just inside the door. He lingered, uncharacteristically.

“Something on your mind?”

“What’s the First Order like?” he asked, staring at his feet. Not unlike-

“Not so bad. Obsession with hierarchy. Lots of greyscale. Why? Wanna defect?”

“No! No, I was just curious. I hear they . . . they can be pretty tough.”

“Yeah.”

“You should officially defect,” said Ryan, shyly. “Join us.”

Hux gestured to himself, the room, the situation in general. “Haven’t I already?”

“Not officially.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, Ryan, but I doubt your superiors would welcome me into the fold, as it were.”

“Well . . . maybe. The information you’ve given us has been very helpful. And you’ve been a very cooperative, err, prisoner.”

“I aim to please.”

Ryan hesitated.

“ . . . You know they’re going to turn you over to the Resistance eventually, right? And their standard procedure is to trade you back to the First Order in exchange for Resistance prisoners, and then . . . you’ve given us so much information, do you, don’t you think the First Order will be unhappy with you?”

“Ryan, you have no idea.”

“Something to consider, I guess.”

“Can I ask you something, Ryan? If we’re doing the ‘personal chat’ thing right now?”

“Sure.”

“What do you know about us? The First Order, I mean.”

“Well, they’re, no offence, but, you know . . . cruel? They want order at the cost of lives and more importantly gourd-bird nesting grounds. They just want power. And that’s, again, no offence, but . . . bad. We generally are against that.”

“Mmm,” said Hux, making a mental note to look into the gourd-bird situation.

“And then, of course, they’ve got evil people working for them. Murderers. Sith.”

“Anyone specific?”

“Kylo Ren.”

Hux hid his eye twitch very well, considering.

“Ever met the guy?” asked Hux.

“Of course not,” said Ryan, recoiling at the question. “Have you?”

“Once or twice.”

“What’s he like?”

“Couldn’t tell you. Could you bring me a bottle of red, please?”

\---

The militia’s head office was located on the bottom floor of the compound.

“What’s that?” asked Lieutenant Lightfire, who was in charge of protecting the northern perimeter of the gourd-bird nesting grounds.

Lieutenant O’Newt, who had just walked in with a datapad, shot him a tired look. “Location of five First Order destroyers. The prisoner wants steak for dinner.”

“This is insane. He’s living better than our officers. He’s living better than _me._ ”

“His information’s worth it. The Resistance is sending someone at the end of the month. They want to interrogate the prisoner themselves. They’re going to recognize us as an official faction. ”

“That’s big,” said Lieutenant Lightfire, eyes shining with hope for a future filled with skies filled with gourd-birds. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. It is. So go to the market in Dalhi and pick up some prime drogbeast fillet, would you?”

\---

The afternoon Kylo Ren finally showed up, Hux was lying on the lounge chair on the balcony, day-drinking.

At the sound of the door opening, Hux looked backwards over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

Kylo stood in the doorway, holding his mask in one hand and his lightsaber in the other. He still hadn’t cut his hair.

Hux let him stare for a moment.

He’d changed, he knew. He’d been changing for a long time, but it was the sort of change that’s imperceptible day by day, and then suddenly very obvious when you see someone for the first time in a while.

Like pregnancy.

Hux could tell that Kylo was just not noticing how different he was from when they first met. He was, for the first time, seeing how Hux now had freckles that matched his own, a healthier skin color, and that his hair, which had been a sort of matte ginger on the Finalizer, was now the color of sunrise.

Hux gave Kylo a moment to let this all sink in, sort of the way you’d casually pose in front of an ex.

Before Kylo could speak (if that was even his intention), Hux held up his hand.

“Wait, let me guess. I think I’ve got it.”

Hux closed his eyes and leaned back.

“Ultimate Great Leader Snoke is, like everyone else, threatened by my ego. He orders you to remove me from the equation. In a desperate and badly-planned attempt to have your cake and eat it too, you drop me off on a distant planet instead of killing me. But that wasn’t enough for him, and now you’re back. Am I right?”

Characteristically, Kylo answered with his face instead of his voice. For the first time in a while, Hux failed to find Kylo’s awkwardness endearing.

“Knew it. Strategic genius, they call me.”

“Um,” said Kylo, softly. “I didn’t, I never-”

“You know, Kylo, a few months ago I would have done anything to get an explanation out of you. I wanted so badly for you to tell me anything. But, now- I’ll be honest; I really, genuinely, don’t want to hear it.”

They stared for a while. Shouting rose and then died down from outside.

“If there was any other way-”

“If you would get on with it, please.”

Kylo walked forward and pulled out his lightsaber.

Hux watched him, a little lazily, a little drunk. He wasn’t _ready_ to die so much as he was _aware_ he was about to.

He didn’t think about things like fate or forgiveness or redemption or legacies. He didn’t try to summon a Great Last Thought or attempt some Distinguished Last Words.

From the Outer Rim to the Finalizer to Decim to this sad little room on Klonoid. It didn’t add up to anything- it just _was_.

Kylo stopped in front of him and stood there for a little while, staring at his feet.

In the light of the afternoon, in the shade of the balcony umbrella, the moment was allowed to pass.

“Performance anxiety?” prompted Hux, finally.

“I can’t kill you. And I can’t not kill you.”

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

Kylo looked at him, annoyed, and for a moment it was like old times. “Be serious, Hux. I’m trying to- if I disobey Snoke, everything I’ve ever worked for, my entire life . . .”

“It’s tough all around. Did Snoke tell you to kill me?”

“Snoke- it’s complicated.”

“It was a fairly simple question.”

“There’s a bounty on your head, Hux. You’re lucky I got to you first.”

“I feel blessed.”

There was silence.

“I missed you,” said Kylo, quietly.

“Of course you did.”

Kylo looked torn. After a moment, he kneeled down.

He held out the lightsaber to Hux.

Hux understood the implication immediately.

“ . . . What are you looking for, Kylo Ren?” Hux asked.

“Salvation.”

“From the light, or from the dark?”

“From myself.”

“And you think you’ll find it in end of a blade?”

“Maybe.”

Hux took the lightsaber. Kylo closed his eyes. He looked remarkably calm.

Hux brought the blade sideways, slowly, towards Kylo’s neck. Clumps of Kylo’s long, ridiculous, unprofessional, insane hair fell to the ground.

There was something holy about Kylo. Some sort of spiritual something. A strong soul, maybe. Even now, a slice of afternoon sun was shining directly onto his forehead. Like a halo.

Hux brought the blade all the way up to Kylo’s neck, to the point where he knew Kylo could feel the heat, and Kylo still didn’t move. He was really, really willing to die. Right here, right now, by Hux’s hand.

Kylo opened his eyes at the sound of Hux deactivating the lightsaber.

“I don’t know where your salvation is, Kylo Ren, but it’s not here.”

Kylo didn’t stand up. He was breathing hard and wide-eyed. He looked more terrified at the prospect of living than he had of dying.

Typical.

Hux, who had long ago transcended wine glasses, took a drink straight from the bottle.

Hux’s balcony had a view of a swamp. This was unsurprising, as the surface of planet Klonoid was 65% swamp. In the afternoon light, the mud shone a pretty sort of salmon color.

“Now that we’ve firmly established that our self-destructive tendencies cancel each other out, can we go? I want to be a million miles away from this place by the time the hangover kicks in.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know. How’d you get here?”

Kylo nodded, as if to clear his head. “A, um, a ship.”

“Great,” said Hux, picking up the bottle and standing up, somehow, bitterly. “Lead the way.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	15. Chapter 15

Kylo took Hux to a small, remote house on Ulta Theta. It was made of wood and located in the middle of a forest. There was nothing in sight but nature, which immediately put Hux off, if it was possible for him to be more put off than he already was. 

“Well,” said Kylo, standing in on the porch awkwardly. 

Hux breezed past him and into the house, which was unlocked. 

It was as basic and naturalistic inside as it looked from outside. Hux found the only room with a bed, locked the door behind him, collapsed on the bed, and covered his face with his hands. 

\---

The days went by as they did and Kylo and Hux lived separately but together in the small house in the forest. 

Kylo left in the mornings and returned around sunset. Hux didn’t know what he did all day. He tried not to think about it. It wasn’t hard, since he felt like absolute shit. 

The hangover came and went and mostly Hux sat in the bed by the open window, using the datapad that he’d found in the room. 

It wasn’t bad, as far as nature went. In another context it seem like something straight out of a fairytale. The forest outside was lush but not soggy, and small, harmless animals wandered in and out of sight. 

One day, spurred by a reason unknown to himself, Hux followed Kylo when he left in the morning. Kylo led him to a quiet glade, with hanging vines and glassy water. Kylo walked directly into the water, which was apparently very shallow, and sat down on a flat rock in the middle of the glade. He closed his eyes and sat very still. 

Hux watched from the trees for over an hour before returning to the house.

\---

One night, Hux left the room with the bed and wandered around the rest of the house until he found a locked door. 

He knocked. 

The was movement from inside, and then the door opened. 

Kylo stared at him, hair long and messy. “Hi.”

Hux hadn’t been sure what he was going to say, but once he saw what Kylo was wearing he figured it out pretty quickly. 

“Are you . . .  _ wearing my coat?” _

Kylo down at himself, like he hadn’t realized. “Oh. I . . . I was keeping it for you. In case you wanted it.”

“You were keeping it for me on your body?”

“I was, I was just-”

“Oh my god, do you  _ sleep in that?” _

“It’s . . . soft . . .  _ and it smells like you _ ,” said Kylo in a very small voice. 

Hux covered his face with one hand, and held out the other. 

“Give it back.”

Kylo shrugged it off. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which- Hux didn’t know what he’d expected. 

Hux folded it over his arm, and then let himself into the room. 

It was a sort of living room. There was a lit fireplace and a couch covered in sheets, which had obviously been used as a bed. 

Hux sat down on one end of this couch, crossed his legs and stared Kylo down. 

“Kylo Ren,” he announced. “We Need To Talk.”

\---

In the grand cosmic scale of the universe, something- possibly everything- breathed a sigh of relief and said,

_ “FINALLY.” _

\---

Talking was going well. 

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, not talking. 

Eventually and surprisingly, Kylo spoke up. 

“I would burn this place to the ground if it would fix things.”

“Save your strength. It won’t.”

Having expended the entirety of his emotional maturity with that sentence, Kylo retreated back inside himself. 

“You know,” said Hux, so suddenly that Kylo almost jumped. “I realized recently that if you had never come along, everything would have gone according to plan. I would probably be commanding a glorious fleet of ships as I conquered the last remaining bit of the galaxy.”

Hux sighed. 

“But then Thatch would have been right, and we can’t have that.”

“ . . . Thatch?” asked Kylo, tentatively, like he wasn’t sure he had the right. 

“He implied once that I’d die alone and miserable, surrounded by other people who were equally as alone and equally as miserable. ‘My body would have barely hit the ground before my closest associates were trying to rip the crown from my head,’ I think were his words.

“And I may very well die here. It’s entirely possible. And if I do, it’s probable that I’ll be very miserable about it.

“But I have a suspicion that if I were to die right now, just, spontaneously collapse to the ground, you’d lie down next to me. It wouldn’t help, in the grand scheme of things. But it’s . . . something.”

Some sort of bird was singing outside. Hux wondered, offhandedly, what sort of bird sings in the middle of the night and also whether slingshots are a thing on this planet. 

A hand tentatively slid into his own. 

Hux didn’t look down, but he did squeeze it. 

\---

Later that night, when Kylo and Hux were asleep on the couch, the datapad started blinking. 

\---

Kylo took Hux with him to the glade the next day. 

“Did you notice?” Hux asked. “The time I followed you here?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know.”

When Kylo walked into the water this time, Hux followed him. It was only calf-deep and the bottom was soft but not muddy. Small fish swam around their feet. 

The rock outcropping in the middle of the glade was bigger than it had looked from the shore. They sat across from each other.  

“So, who’s keeping who grounded now?” asked Hux. “Are we both grounded? Or maybe neither of us are.”

“Maybe we’re both just human.”

“Don’t get all deep on me now, Kylo.”

“I think there’s something wrong with me, Hux,” said Kylo, a bit desperately, as was everything he did and said. 

“Oh, honey,” said Hux, before he could stop himself. It wasn’t the sort of thing an evil general should ever say. He was glad they were in a remote area and very completely alone. 

“Can I . . .?” asked Kylo, holding his hand out to Hux’s forehead. 

Hux nodded. 

\---

Hux had been right about one thing- Kylo’s mind was an absolute mess. 

Later, he would just remember flashes and words, pieces of conversation. 

A prodigal son. 

Raw like supernova.

It was as if someone had scraped away the protective coating, allowing his power to shine through but also making him especially as vulnerable. 

_ “It would have followed me forever. I had to kill it.” _

“Kill your past?” echoed trans-dimensional Hux. “Sounds melodramatic.”

_ “I think if you want to be reborn, if you want to . . . if there’s a life you want to leave behind, you have to kill it to get away. I think there are things that follow you until the day you die. I think some things have to be killed.” _

There was a break. It wasn’t an quick snap. It was slow, and it was painful, and it was irreversible, and it broke Hux’s heart. 

And Hux understood, because he knew what it was like to channel the power of a blazing star into a weapon. 

A helmet, because he couldn’t keep his face neutral and it undermined his authority. A voice modulator, because he couldn’t hide the crack in his voice when he was upset. 

This power, and it was then that Hux stopped being impressed at how many things Kylo had broken on the Finalizer because he knew now that the whole time, even now, _ Kylo had been holding back.  _

\---

“The hell is this?” 

Kylo looked over. Hux was holding the datapad, which was blinking red. 

“Does this mean, like, low battery or something?”

Kylo took it and examined it. “Someone’s send me a signal.”

“Fuck. Are we being tracked?”   


“No! No, I mean . . . someone’s reaching out. It’s, it’s not bad, necessarily. They sent coordinates.”

“Who is it?” 

“ . . . I would guess, whatever remains of your supporters.”

\---

A few days and clothing excursions later, they packed up Kylo’s fighter. 

“I’d like to take a moment,” said Hux. “Before we throw ourselves into the fray again, to acknowledge that we don’t have to go back.We could go anywhere we wanted.”

“That’s true,” agreed Kylo. 

“We’re not being  _ forced _ to go back- no pun intended.”

“No.”

“We’re doing it because we’re idiots.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good. I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : D
> 
> It's all coming full circle. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also: Ghost miniseries is gonna be released in conjunction with the next chapter! We're getting backstory for EVERYONE.


	16. Chapter 16

“We’re . . . making a detour, first,” said Kylo, once they were in space. 

“What kind of detour?”

Kylo didn’t answer. 

“Kylo . . .”

“The kind you won’t like,” said Kylo. “But that I have to do. I’ve . . . my whole life has been . . . you know.”

He pressed buttons on the control panel, seemingly arbitrarily. 

“What if he asks you to kill me?” Hux asked, after a brief awkward silence. 

“I’ll tell him I can’t.”

“And if he tells you that you have to?”

“Then I’ll be a failure.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Hux watched from the passenger’s seat as Kylo piloted the fighter, staring straight ahead. Kylo’s hair was still long and wild - except for a not insignificant bit on the right side of his head, where he’d let Hux bring a lightsaber to his neck. It was short and straight. 

Hux nodded. “Okay.”

\---

The last time Hux had seen Scila it was backlit by a star, icy and silver in the cosmic void. 

Today they approached it from the opposite side, flying past the star before arriving at the planet. It reflected the light of the star in a blinding white. Hux shielded his eyes as they approached. 

Kylo landed the fighter in a flat valley made up of slabs of icy grey rocks. They got out and walked up to the base of the mountain, where Kylo did Something With The Force. The rock parted, creating a tunnel lit by cold energy. 

Wordlessly, they walked inside. 

There was a door at the end of the corridor. It was big and stone and plain. 

“Is he there?” asked Hux. 

“Not exactly. Not. . .  _ physically _ .”

They stood in front of the door to Snoke’s chamber and it was almost like before, a long time ago, when they would wait outside of Snoke’s chamber on the Finalizer. Except it was nothing like that. 

“Deja vu,” said Kylo. 

“Don’t pretend you know what that means.”

Kylo closed his eyes and inhaled. “Alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Believe me. I don’t mind.”

Kylo held his hand out and the doors slid open, silently. It was pitch black inside. 

He entered. 

\---

Hux was examining the tiling on the walls the doors slid open again, about fifteen minutes later. 

Kylo had a strange expression on his face.  

“What?” asked Hux. "You're done already?"

Kylo looked at him for a moment. “He, um.”

“He what?”

“He . . . told me to ask you if you understood why this had to happen.”

“If  _ I -  _ look, I get  _ why he did it _ . I think it was  _ stupid _ , but I  _ understand _ perfectly.”

Kylo nodded, a little spacily. “He also, uh, told me to tell you that you can have your job back.”

“ . . . Are you serious.”

“Yeah.”

“After this, after  _ all this,  _ everything could go back to normal - to . . . before. The Finalizer. Everything.”

“Yes.”

Hux laughed the laugh of someone who is So Over This Shit. 

“One condition.”

“Yeah?” asked Hux. 

“We have to kill the people who tried to overthrow you.”

Hux turned around and walked down the hallway, away from the chamber. “Done.”

\---

Several hours later found them flying through space, towards the coordinates that they’d received on the datapad. 

“I hand-picked my entire crew, you know?” said Hux. “That’s why I was always so offended when you called them trash. I chose every single person on the Finalizer. Except you.”

Hux stared at the ceiling. 

“That came later.”

\---

Dulieae is a smallish mining planet, rich in minerals and not much else. That said, as far as mining planets go, it doesn't get much better than Dulieae. On a pain scale, Dulieae's equivalent would be a 6, if the scale only goes from 6 (painful) to 10 (actual death). 

The coordinates led to a little town near the edge of a platinum mine. 

Kylo and Hux landed on Dulieae's only airport, bought a rundown speeder off a local, and arrived in the town thirty minutes later. 

"Never again."

"What?" asked Kylo, who was pulling their bags off the speeder. 

"That thing. Never again."

"The speeder? Have you never ridden one before?"

"No. I was lucky enough to be spared, until just now."

"We're going to have to ride it back."

"I'd rather walk."

"Would you really?"

" . . . No."

They walked for a few minutes, passing few people and no vehicles.   

"Hey," said Hux, as if he'd just had an idea.

"What?"

"Maybe someone will try to kill us again, and then we won't have to worry about it."

\---

Their destination was a small, average-looking sandy house on the west side of town.

“Should we knock?”

Kylo gave him a look and held out his hand, unlocking and opening the front door with the Force. 

“Okay. Let’s do it the  _ rude _ way.”

Inside was a little kitchen stocked with hanging herbs. Through the doorway in front of them they could see a living room, and to their left was a stairwell. 

Hux was about to ask what the hell they were supposed to do now when the door they'd just walked through opened. 

They turned. 

Drax, holding an plasma pickaxe and covered in dust, stood inside the doorway, taking off her boots.  

“Honey  _ I’m home.” _

She looked up and covered her mouth with her hands. 

There was a moment, and then she ran to them, nearly tripping over her untied laces, and pulled them both into a hug. 

“You’re getting us all dusty,” said Hux. “Oh my god, are you crying?”   


“No,” sobbed Drax. 

“Okay, just checking.”

She pulled away abruptly and blinked. “Oh! Hold on!” She ran over and yelled up the stairs, “Androssi! Downstairs, now!”

“You mean-”

Drax beamed. “Yes!”

“You two are-”

“Undercover as a married couple? Yes!”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Um.”

Ghost stood at the foot of the stairwell, clearly having just gotten out of the shower. He was wearing shorts and - that’s it. Just shorts. 

“Fuck,” he said, toweling off his hair. “So you two are alive.” 

\---

A couple moist and undignified hugs later, they sat in the living room. Androssi handed them mugs of hot tea. 

“Normal,” he said. “I swear.” He’d put on the sci-fi equivalent of a bro tank and pulled his hair back into a ponytail, and overall didn’t at all look as formal as he always had back on Decim, at the Guild. 

“Like my disguise?”  he asked, dryly. “It’s me, but poor.”

“It’s really convincing.”

“Thank you.”

“So what happened?” 

“Dissenters,” said Kylo, looking down. “Snoke.” 

“It was a cartel, actually,” said Ghost. 

“It was a combination,” said Drax. “A group of dissenters from the First Order partnered up with the biggest cartel in the area - the Pegasus family. I’m not sure what happened afterwards. As far as I can tell, Pegasus double-crossed the dissenters and now have partial control of the Finalizer.”

“ . . . Partial?”   


“You think Tiberius and Phasma and the rest of the crew just gave up on you?”

“Oh no. They’re still holding out, aren’t they.”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“So I suppose we’d better go . . . do something, then.”

“Yes, probably.”

“And Decim?”

“Controlled by the dissenters. They would have killed you. They would have killed  _ us.” _

“Fantastic,” said Hux, putting his head in his hands. “Amazing.”

“What’s next?”

“What’s next,” said Hux, slowly, without sitting up. “Is that it’s time for Ghost to explain to the class what his tattoos mean.”

Everyone turned to look at Ghost. 

Ghost crossed his arms, as if to hide them, but in a sleeveless shirt it was pointless. He rolled his eyes. “How long have you known?”

“Since the night of the ball. You thought I wouldn’t recognize them?”

“I was  _ hoping.” _

“What?” asked Drax, looking between them. “What?”

“Yes,” said Kylo. “What.”

Ghost sighed. “Okay. Fine. The short version is that I used to work at a cartel.”

“No,” said Hux. “No. People who  _ work at cartels  _ don’t get Pegasus blood tattoos.”

“Alright,” snapped Ghost. “I was a cartel boss. Space pirate. Whatever. I was young and stupid. Don’t act scandalized. Everyone in this room is literally evil. Don’t fucking judge me.” 

“What happened?”   


“I . . . quit. In a rather spectacular fashion. Faked my own death. It’s really the only way to quit a cartel.”

“That’s why you banned photographers,” said Drax, suddenly. “At the Guild, back on Decim. I thought you were just, I don’t know, being a diva.”

“Thanks.”

“Would you say that you, err, died on  _ good _ terms with Pegasus?” asked Hux, hopefully .

“Well . . . put it this way- I was in charge of their money. A lot of their assets inexplicably died with me, if you catch my drift.”

“So you stole from them.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s a _ cartel _ , not a charity. And it was less stupid than it sounds- faking your own death, turns out, is hard. I had some accomplices to pay off.” 

“So,” said Hux. “So what’s happening is that there are  _ two groups _ that conspired to overthrow me together, one which is made up of First Order people who hate me - big group, must be - and the other which is made up of your old gang buddies who think you're dead and hate  _ you.” _

They were quiet for a moment. 

“Anyone for just staying here and living the rest of our lives in exile?” asked Ghost, hopefully. “Anyone? Just me?”

\---

They traded the fighter for a small passenger spacecraft at the airport, and then stocked up on supplies. 

“Ghost?” asked Hux, as they were packing.

“Yes?”

“What’s the long version? Of your story, I mean.”

“Ask me again after a few drinks.”

\---

Immediately upon entering Decim airspace, four Pegasus fighters pulled alongside them.

“Good,” said Hux. He wasn't even just having that kind of day - he was having that kind of _life._ “Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Ghost's miniseries is now up!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8597440/chapters/19716463) It's gonna be 3 chapters long and should finish up pretty quickly- definitely before this story does. 
> 
> Shit's coming to a close. I promise, it's gonna be good.


	17. Chapter 17

“Hux,” whispered Drax.

“Yes?”  
  
“What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fucked.”

“Oh.”

Armed guards led them down the dark hallways of a ship, which, from the outside, had been labeled the Celestine. It was a mid-sized pirate ship- sort of old, but not by any means defunct.  

Hux wasn’t sure if he’d necessarily call them “captured.” Kylo hadn’t squeezed anyone’s brains out yet, so they still had that going for them. They’d allowed themselves to be gun-to-the-head shepherded by the Pegasus fighters to this ship. When the guards asked for Kylo’s lightsaber, he’d handed it over without question.

They probably hadn’t heard of Kylo’s brain extraction trick.

Hux felt sort of bad for them.

The guards led them around a corner that was more well-lit. They were leaving the underbelly of the ship and entering a fancier, more upscale part of the ship. Threatening-looking people passed them and stared.

Kylo walked like he owned the ship.

It was amazing, Hux reflected, how Kylo could look like this- in control, unafraid, powerful- on an enemy ship, but look absolutely terrified when confronted with social interaction or interpersonal conflict.  

Ghost, on the other hand.

“Are you alright?” Hux asked quietly, because Ghost looked like he was walking to his death.

Which, Hux acknowledged sort of bitterly, he might very well be.

Ghost looked at him and, oddly, tried and failed to summon a comforting smile. “It’s fine,” he said, which was clearly a lie. “I can- let me handle this.”

Hux must have looked as doubtful as he felt, because Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Give me _some_ credit,” he said.

He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and then breezed past Hux and their guards.

“Hey,” said one of the guards, grabbing his arm roughly.

“Don’t touch me,” snapped Ghost, pulling away. “You’re clearly new here, or you’d know who I am. We’re going to the circle room to meet with Idra, correct? I know the way.”

He turned on his heel and walked forwards.

The guards, too surprised to protest, let him.

Ghost led them to a set of double doors. He stopped for a moment in front of them before pushing them open.

Like the rest of the ship, this room had seen better days. There was a circular table in the center with five seats. Only one of them was occupied. The man stood up when they walked in.

He stared.

After a moment, he walked forward, right up to Ghost.

And hugged him.

“Androssi,” he said. “I always wondered . . .”

“Hi, Idra,” said Ghost, softly. “Miss me?”

Idra pulled away and held him by the shoulders. “Clever trick you pulled there. Blowing up the transport ship. We mourned you, Androssi. We truly did.” He frowned, looking bothered. Then he shook it off and turned to the others.

“ _General_ , _”_ he said, sort of gruffly.

“This whole thing is your fault, I suppose then?” asked Hux.

“No. We’re just hired guns. Opportunists. We have nothing against you personally, but your enemies pitched us a partnership offer.”

“Great,” said Hux. “Let’s pretend that I’ve been somewhat _out of the loop_ recently. Remind me- who are my enemies, again?”

“Your political enemies. They banded together. They’ve been ruling Decim in your absence.”

“Good. Okay. I don’t suppose you’d take me to them? I want to _talk.”_

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no. It’s _fine._ Not a problem.”

“And I’m sorry for this, too.”

“What?”

Idra turned to the guards. “Take them to the holding cells. Guns on the goth, the whole way. He’s dangerous.”

“Oh,” said Hux, as he was led away. “Great.”

\---

The holding cells were fine, as far as holding cells go.

Kylo and Hux sat against the back wall. Kylo’s arm was around Hux’s shoulder, and Hux laid his head on Kylo. Kylo was warm and strong and comforting, and Hux had missed this.

He thought about how hilarious it was that he felt safest within the arms of Kylo Ren.

They watched Drax pace.

“So,” she was saying, like she was trying to organize things in her head. “So, we’re in jail.”

“Technically.”

“They took Kylo’s lightsaber.”

“They did.”

“The First Order has been taken over by a, a, a coup, who have enlisted a cartel to help them, who currently are holding us hostage.”

“Sounds about right.”

“The Finalizer is engaged in an internal civil war, probably, possibly, we don’t know because we have no information because we’re _in a holding cell.”_

“Sounds like you’re having quite a day,” said a new voice.

They looked up.

A man sat across from them in the opposite cell.

“Hi.”

\---

Ghost looked around the room.

It was decorated, but in a way that was clearly an afterthought. It looked like a very utilitarian person had just recently discovered appliques.

Idra lit a candle.

“So you’ve fallen in with the First Order,” he said. “That’s a surprise.”

“So have you, in a way.”

“In a way,” agreed Idra.

There was a brief silence, as Idra went to sit next to Ghost on the bed.

“Are you going to kill them?”

“Yes. Sorry. It’s business.”

“That’s what I thought. I understand.”

“The short one goes whenever- we don’t need her. The General, we’ve been instructed to film it. Do something horrible to him. I haven’t worked out the details yet. Kylo Ren will live, actually. They’re going to send us coordinates. I assume his master has punishment already chosen.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“You weren’t . . . attached to them, were you?”

“No,” said Ghost. “Maybe. It was just a job. I . . . I will miss them, though.”

“Sorry. Our reputation though- you understand. The deal’s already been completed. We need to hold up our side.”

“It’s business,” Ghost echoed, softly.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Hey,” said Idra, a little shyly.

“Yes?”

“I’ve . . . I’ve started _indulging.”_

“Have you.”

“Yes. You were right, you know. Drugs are amazing. I’ve gotten good with them. But I’m still not, you know. I’m nothing compared to you. No idea how to-” He waved his hands. “Mix things.”

“Let me make you something,” said Ghost, a little sadly. “For old times. Let me mix you something.”

\---

The man in the cell across from them was quite helpful.

“What can you tell us about Androssi Ghost?” asked Drax.

“Androssi?,” said the man, scratching his head. “He’s a legend. One of the five original Pegasus bosses. Died a few years ago when a deal went bad.”

“And Idra is the boss, then?” Hux asked.

“Idra Pegasus, yeah. Scary. Terrifying, actually. You’re either on his good side, or you’re dead. Temper like nothing you’ve ever seen. I pity his enemies. Me, mostly. I pity me.”

“When did he partner up with the, err, let’s call them the evil First Order and pretend that makes sense.”

“They approached him at the beginning of the campaign. The First Order General? I’m sure you’ve heard. That Hux fellow. On his way to becoming emperor of the universe or whatnot. Some of the First Order didn’t like him, so they partnered up with Pegasus to run a mutiny of some sort.”

“I see.”

“You, you _are_ that Hux fellow, aren’t you?”

“I might be.”

“Okay. Just wondering. It sounds like you’re having a bad day.”

“My friend, you have no idea. Anyway. Kylo?”

Kylo nodded. He pulled away from Hux, arm lingering on his shoulder for much longer than necessary, and then, on impulse, kissed his cheek.

Hux smiled. He felt- he felt _something_ . Liked. He felt _liked_ . Let’s go with _liked._

Then Kylo stood up, pulled his arm back, and smashed the plasma door of the holding cell.

The man in the cell across from them stared, open-mouthed, as Kylo, Hux, and Drax exited the cell, stepping past bits of steaming plasma and melted metal.

“See you, then.”

\---

They found Idra Pegasus’s room very quickly by threatening whoever they happened to come across in the hallways. It’s amazing how cooperative people will be when confronted by Kylo Ren.

“Stay behind me,” said Kylo. He kicked open the door.

And then paused.

The scene inside was somewhat unexpected.

There was a vanity on one side of the room. Ghost was sitting at it with his face down on the table and his arms around his head. His shoulders were trembling, but he looked otherwise unhurt.

After a few seconds, he turned his head, so that one red, puffy eye was visible over his arm.

“What?” he said. He tried to glare, but didn’t quite manage to conceal the vulnerability so obviously surrounding him.

There was a figure on the bed. As soon as he noticed it, Kylo strode over, put his hand on his shoulder, and slammed him against the wall.

Idra didn’t open his eyes.

“I took care of it.”

They turned to look at Ghost, who did not, in turn, look up.

“I took care of it,” he repeated.

Kylo looked back to Idra. He put his arm around his neck, it appeared to check for a pulse. Whether he found one or not, he didn’t say. Kylo cracked Idra’s neck and let his body fall to the bed.

\---

They walked down the hallway.

Ghost was crying, very quietly. Everyone pretended not to notice, except Drax, who held his hand.

“Where to?” asked Kylo.

“The Finalizer,” said Hux. “Let’s end this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back. 
> 
> And we're almost done. 
> 
> Two quick things; 
> 
> 1\. If you haven't already, check out the [Ghost miniseries](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8597440/chapters/19716463) It gives Ghost's backstory and more information on the Pegasus cartel. 
> 
> 2\. I wrote an original online interactive story! It's called [This City Knows You](http://thiscityknowsyou.tumblr.com/) and there are a lot of exciting things happening with it. Check it out at thiscityknowsyou.com!


	18. Goodbye To A World: Redux

They took one of the larger Pegasus fighters from the Celestine’s hanger. 

“The Finalizer is still in orbit around Decim,” Drax said, as they flew. “The dissenters or coup or whatever we’re calling them has taken over Decim. A faction of them is fighting for control of the Finalizer.”

“So we have a two-front battle, then,” said Hux. “Decim and the Finalizer. Prioritize the Finalizer - it’s the First Order’s most important asset.”

“I beg to differ,” said Ghost. 

“Agreed,” said Kylo, from behind the wheel.

It took Hux a moment. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

The scene came into view soon enough. Decim, a sort of tan pearl in space, and the Finalizer, in all its white-grey glory against the backdrop of the void. Seeing it triggered unexpected emotion in Hux. If there was a physical space in the galaxy that he could call home, it would be the Finalizer. 

The closest planet to Decim was Peg’Orth. Peg’Orth had three moons, named, creatively, Moons 1, 2, and 3. They were named by size, with Moon 1 being the largest and Moon 3 being the smallest. It was this tiny moon that Kylo Ren piloted the fighter to. 

From where they stood, outside the fighter, parked just outside of the one single bar which was the one single building on this moon, they had of view of Decim and the Finalizer, floating a ways off in the sky. 

“It’s kind of beautiful,” said Drax, after a moment. “The Finalizer, even though I know there’s a war going on inside of it, I just - I never get to see the outside of it because I’m always  _ in  _ it but, I think, it’s, I . . . something.”

“I know what you mean,” said Hux.

They stood there, staring into space, until Hux realized that Kylo wasn’t with them. He turned around. Kylo was walking towards the fighter.

“Kylo?”

“Wait here,” said Kylo.

“What are you doing?” asked Hux. 

Kylo didn’t turn around. “I’m ending this.”

Again, it took Hux a moment. 

“No. Not alone.”

“You’ll only get in my way.” Kylo said this sadly, like he wished it weren’t true, like he wished he could take down the last of the dissenters with Hux by his side. 

And he was right, and Hux knew he was right, and he hated this. 

Hux grabbed Kylo’s arm and looked him in the eye. 

“If you don’t come back I’m going to kill you.”

And it was a joke but there was a desperateness to it. 

They stared at each other. It was a moment.

“Okay,” said Kylo, finally. 

And he got into the fighter alone.

\---

They watched the Finalizer. 

The bar, the one single structure on Moon 3, had a small artificial atmosphere bubble that encased the bar and the general area around it. They stood outside, in this bubble staring up into space which was absolutely visible. 

“He’ll come back,” said Ghost, after a while. “He’s unstoppable.”

Hux said nothing. 

“And even if - even if he  _ weren’t  _ to come back, which he will, I’m just being hypothetical, but - Hux, I know you don’t like dealing with your feelings, and believe me, I am right there with you, but Hux . . . he’s willing to  _ die _ for you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” said Hux. 

And the Finalizer floated in space, a light grey against the background of black, and Hux stared and waited. 

\---

There was an explosion. 

It was about three-fourths down the length of the Finalizer, sort of right where the maintenance rooms were, and it showered sparks into the void of space. 

Hux clasped his hands, and then unclasped them, and then rolled his shoulders, and said nothing. 

\---

The fighter returned. 

Of course it did, Hux told himself. Obviously. 

Kylo had always been terrible at hiding his emotions, so when he got out of the fighter, it was immediately obvious that everything was not right. 

“What?” asked Hux, power-walking over to him. “What? Also-” And he kissed him. 

When they pulled away, Kylo wouldn’t meet his eye. 

“What?” Hux asked again, a little breathless. 

“Our allies have long since fled the Finalizer. It’s been completely overrun.

“Shit.”

“They’ve begun infighting. I arrived and it was chaos. Hux, I don’t think, I can’t - I could kill them all. But I can’t  _ save  _ it. What I’m saying is, is, I think it’s rather . . . over.”

Hux stared. 

“In what way?”

“I can’t explain it. When I got there I just  _ knew _ .”

“Knew what?”

In response, Kylo looked up at the sky. 

The Finalizer still hung over Decim. But now that Hux looked at it, it was sort of . . . tilting. And the thrusters were a little bit less blue than they normally were. 

As they watched, the tilting became more obvious and more . . .  _ downwards _ . It was almost like it was falling out of orbit towards Decim. 

I did tell you. 

This is a story about self-destruction. 

\---

It wasn’t so much  _ like _ watching a crash in slow-motion as it was that they were, literally, watching a very slow crash. 

The Finalizer, the pride and glory of the First Order but also the world’s biggest arrow, pierced the planet Decim with a vast inevitableness. 

As they watched the Finalizer and Decim smash each other into a billion pieces, Ghost spoke up. 

“This is great material for your next campaign.”

Hux almost laughed. 

“I think . . . I think part of me was on that ship,” Hux said, before he could stop himself. 

And then he thought, but isn’t that just what people do? They go around, leaving bits of themselves everywhere they go, and wasn’t it a lucky that the universe is ever-expanding because if it wasn’t, they would eventually run out of space for all the pieces that people leave around. No matter how careful you are, you will always leave part of yourself behind, even if it’s just an indent in a bed.

Part of him was on that ship, yes. And part of him was still on Decim, warming itself in the sun, and part of him was on Ulta Theta, and part of him was in that room in planet Klonoid, drunk out of its mind. 

There was a part of him that had laid down next to Kylo, that night on the Finalizer over a year ago, and had never gotten up again. 

And impossibly, all of him is still right here.  

He turned to Kylo. 

“We’ll never . . . this is never going to be easy, is it?”

“No.”

And Hux decided that he didn’t care, and that the world could very well  _ bring it the fuck on _ because Kylo Ren wasn’t the only one willing to die for this. 

Hux didn’t know if Kylo could hear all of these thoughts. 

He didn’t ask. 

Instead, he elbowed Kylo. 

“Let’s go.”

They walked through the bar, under the flickering neon lights, between scum-of-the-galaxy space pirates and down-on-their-luck satellite maintenance workers and everyone else unfortunate enough to be on this tiny moon.

There was no music playing, but if there was, [Hux knew what it would sound like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORm85o4OoKQ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORm85o4OoKQ
> 
> And we bring things to a close. 
> 
> I've had this chapter written out in my head for over a year and it's an absolute pleasure to finally share it. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who came along for the ride. 
> 
> If you're interested in checking out more of my writing, which includes original things, interactive adventures, and more fanfictiony things, then jump on over to my writing tumblr at [decotext.tumblr.com](http://decotext.tumblr.com/) OR my writing twitter [@decotext](https://twitter.com/decotext)


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